


For the King

by DarthUmbreon (SperoDeoVolente)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Eventual Fluff, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Politics, Shameless Smut, Slavery, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8834458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SperoDeoVolente/pseuds/DarthUmbreon
Summary: Jack Morrison is a long lived vampire whose has managed to dodge becoming magically bonded to another inhuman, despite the odds being stacked against him. Nearly a 1,000 years since his relationship with Gabriel Reyes ended, his world is finally colliding with inhuman politics without him wanting to become involved. Can Jack survive in the ruthless world of magical inhuman politics or will he be sucked into it forever as a permanent member of The Pumpkin King's court?Meanwhile, Gabriel Reyes has risen to the height of inhuman politics as The Pumpkin King. Its lonely at the top, and he misses his wayward lover, who vanished into the night nearly a 1,000 years ago. When he finally finds his long lost lover, Jack Morrison things change. The little blond shit head is still single, and Gabriel means to finally make Jack his, but can he actually convince Jack to stop being afraid of bonding with a King?





	1. Hollow Road

**Author's Note:**

> Now with italics on the first person thoughts like the author intended but is usually too effing lazy to add in after the story goes from doc to AO3.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning, Jack remembers. He needs to eat, and the night is perfect for an ambush. That is, until a certain wraith travels down that Hollow Road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor changes to chapter 1. Changed some words, added some bits, and put in more details.

 

 

 

There is no moonlight tonight. Even the stars are hidden behind the high, thin clouds that dim their twinkle away to inky blackness. Jack gives silent thanks to the new moon. Without moonlight the land is nothing but layers of shadow. Perfect for his preferred hunting tactics. He’s an ambush predator by habit, waiting motionless until someone stumbles into his range. Oh, he could hunt like an average vampire and use copious amounts of magic to lure prey to him. However, he’d rather save his energy for an emergency. Atypical hunting methods are one of the many stratagems Jack Morrison employs to avoid detection by Hunters. No one expects a vampire to hunt like he does, so when the Hunters come running they don’t think to look for a vampire.

A chill wind blows, rustling dead leaves across the ground, masking any noise he might make. Not that Jack makes a lot of noise, but some humans have exceptional senses - best to use the environment to his advantage. It should be easy to get a meal tonight; most humans will wrongly assume the goosebumps going down their spine are from the crisp fall breeze, not a vampire, and walk right into his trap.  _ Should being the key word here _ , Jack muses to himself. In just one year and a scattering of months he turns one thousand, and he’s learned by now that even the best laid plans can go awry.

_Patience will get me a meal._ Hunger gnaws at his insides. It’s been too long since he last ate enough. _Silence will get me a meal._ Jack prays no one will hear the faint sounds of hunger that come off him. Inhuman or not, his body uses similar biological processes as humans. Pesky vampire body makes sound like humans from time to time. Jack scans his surroundings for the signs of prey. Surely someone will pass down this stretch of road hidden in the shadows of a large stand of birch trees. _I will get a good meal tonight._   
  
For tonight’s hunting expedition Jack’s outfit has nothing but white, black, and grey fabric, a mottled mess meant to blend in with the pale bark and dark shadows. Skin unnaturally white, and dark circles around his eyes match the palette as well. Humans have magical amulets to detect illusions now. Inhumans, mages, witches… magic no longer hides them like before. Hiding using mundane methods saves Jack all the power he would need to use to overpower or work around the effects. As far as he knows, Jack is the only vampire that hunts this way. Not that he talks with any other vampires, but Athena, his Dryad hostess provides him with plenty of gossip.

Two feet to his left is a narrow, cobblestone road. This is the shortest path between the towns of Rockspire and Glensdale. Tthe Spire Mountains that cut this piece of country in half separating the two closest towns, Rockspire and Glensdale. Those tall, imposing mountains, most of which are dormant volcanos paint a pretty picture. Those tall mountains tops are already capped with snow, stark against the black basalt stone. Those towns need supplies. Humans are fragile things, always getting wounded. This tiny pass between Mt. Drake and Mt. Gryphon, one of the few passes wide enough for human use, makes the road well traveled. Humans are brave beyond the point of stupid, so it is traveled at night.    
  
Boredom gnaws at Jack almost more demanding than the need in his gut. His brain studies his surroundings. Red eyes take time to survey the road. Although he’s hunted here before, his brain demands something to think about. Human structures are a decent enough point of study, he can use the information later. He notes it is tiny road, barely wide enough for a single horse pulled carriage, and it barely fits in the narrow mountain pass. Where the pass narrows so there isn’t room for road and stream, bridges are necessary. Human or inhuman, someone clever got both the stream and the road into the available space.    
  
Without a care, the road winds lazily through the assortment of trees, crisscrossing the shallow stream as needed. If he can, Jack prefers to do his hunting in this stretch of country. The humans that live nearby are constantly breeding, always a fresh supply of the young and stupid. It’s a pretty place, plenty of landscape to admire while waiting. Jack finds it a nice hunting ground.

It’s been several weeks since his last good meal, and Jack can still envision the tasty morsel in his mind’s eye. A young male in his prime, his blood sweet like the candy he used to enjoy while mortal. Salvia forms in his mouth as he remembers the meal, whose brown eyes pleaded with him, as his mouth could not. That flawless skin so pliant under his claws as he coaxed the meal into hardness. Their muffled moans of pleasure as he fucked him before feeding still ring pleasantly in memory. One of his fangs slides free of his mouth, as he remembers riding that particular morsel. Another fang slides out, his tongue lapping against his lips. That one’s blood was divine to drink, pure and untouched. Blood almost as good as Gabriel’s human blood… both fangs bite into his lower lip. A tiny blush crosses his face, fangs retreating quickly, as blood sluggishly flows from the wounds. The small trickle of dark blood drips down his chin, almost as dark a red as his eyes. He wipes away the blood with the back of his fist, the wounds already healed by the time it leaves his face.

He hadn’t thought of Gabriel like that in centuries, not since before Jack left without a word. When Jack was a very young vampire, not even into his first century, Gabriel Reyes had been his lover. They had know each other even when they were both mortal, and thanks to a very bloody war, they both became inhumans, powerful immortal creatures, at the same time. Jack had the fortune to become a vampire, Gabriel Reyes unluckily became a Wraith, instead of a more awesome inhuman. Jack feels blessed for becoming a vampire. For the first hundred years they were an inseparable team, but that changed. War didn’t make them split ways, the struggles of peace afterwards did.

The wind shifts, picking up the leaves again, and the temperature abruptly drops. Annoyance spikes in Jack. Another inhuman is also on the hunt, he can sense them coming closer with every second. These are unclaimed hunting grounds; any inhuman can use them, provided they defend themselves and their meal from other predators or Hunters. Jack tastes their magic, tongue licking the enchantment off the breeze, slowly rolling it around in his mouth. Pumpkin is the first hint he gets, the taste and feel of the magic strong. He judges his opponent.  _ They’re strong. I can already taste their magic without seeing them. Ugh! _ Whoever is coming is incredibly powerful, probably the second in command to a sovereign inhuman. Their magic tastes oddly familiar, but Jack can’t place it. Though the taste does instantly bring to mind feelings of pumpkin pie and fire.

The temperature drops again, frost forming on the ground.  _ Damned annoying, inconsiderate, high and mighty, magically powerful asshole! _ The changes in weather, loudly announcing the stranger’s flamboyant approach, are rapidly sending Jack’s dinner plans to hell. Fire and ice, pumpkin spice…  _ An emissary of the Pumpkin King! _ Jack decides it is time to go.  _ I don’t want to deal with anyone’s slave!  _ His body turns into a pale mist, quickly condensing into the form of a large, silver bat. Wings spreading wide, he takes flight into the night.

Individual birch trees rapidly shrink into an endless sea of green beneath him. It’s not worth the cost to fight someone’s pet for a single meal he hasn’t even captured yet. Jack doesn’t need to eat so badly he’ll squabble over unclaimed territory without an actual meal at stake. There are other options open to him, just not the most desired outcomes for getting a dinner. His stomach growls. Jack is not pleased and mentally grumbles during his flight.   
  
Oh, he’d win that fight, but that would announce his presence to anybody in tune with the supernatural for a hundred miles, and anger this bastard’s master. Not just any master, the magic he tasted belonged to the Pumpkin King. One of the most infamous, powerful Kings in all of the lands ruled by inhumans. A possible meal is not worth giving away his location to so many unsavory customers and calling down the wrath of a powerful Inhuman. He has no desire to have either a Hunter or one of the Inhuman Kings tracking him down!

Banking sharply to the right, Jack follows parallel to the Spire Mountains. Tall and imposing, the Spire Mountains bisect the continent into two vastly different regions. North of the range is filled with humans and their Kingdoms. Jack hasn’t traveled the human ruled lands in nearly eight centuries. Not since Citadel de Noire got destroyed. South of the range is mostly untamed by human hands, filled with inhuman Kingdoms. Although the towns hugging both sides of the mountains are usually a mixture of both human and inhuman. One of the largest, most well known mixed towns, is Nuevo Muerte. It’s ruled by an inhuman King. The Pumpkin King rules from a massive castle carved into Mount Saw, one of the largest peaks in the range. The heart of Mount Saw is still rumored to be an active volcano. All of this Jack knows from hearsay, he refuses to go there in person. 

Jack’s home is in the Overwatch forest, which is the largest forest in the south. Overwatch forest is adjacent to the Spire Mountains for most of their length, spreading outwards, like a patched quilt for hundreds of miles. Not all of Overwatch is ruled by Athena, there are various sections ruled by other power creatures, however, she does rule most of it. Parts of the forest are claimed by the Pumpkin King. A majority of Overwatch’s population is smaller magical beings. They call any bits of the forest actively under the Pumpkin King’s control, Blackwatch. Again, parts of the forest Jack refuses to visit.

Honestly, at times Jack has briefly considered joining the service of a more powerful creature of the night. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to find food and get away undetected with Hunters getting more organized these days. They’re putting up traps in areas he likes to hunt, and it’s proving problematic for him as one of the few lone vampires remaining. If he had another companion to help him safely spring the trap it would be different. Gabriel never let either of them go hungry.  _ I wonder if Gabriel is still alive and free?  _ Jack’s flight takes a sudden dip and he forces his wings to flap harder to level out. He is not thinking about Gabriel right now!

Most inhumans, such as vampires, werewolves, wraiths, witches, etc are the slaves of a more powerful inhuman. Almost all the slaves willingly give up their free will in the process of accepting a King’s rule. By giving it up, and all their power, they receive a safe place to stay, food, and other resources. Everyone under a King’s control surrenders all their power to their King, strengthening them. The more slaves they control, the more powerful the King. And not everyone serving a King does such service willingly, they often trick anyone and anything they can into eternal servitude. A common tactic for acquiring new slaves is “rescuing” some cornered inhuman from a Hunter, binding the unlucky individual with a life debt. When you live forever unless killed, that’s a long time to be indebted. Jack’s thought wander back to Gabriel and if he’s happy. Once more his flight altitude takes a sharp dip and he labors to even out.

  
Unfortunately, Jack’s pride gets in the way of this simple solution to his problems. The thought of giving up his power and his freedom after living so long on his own is abhorrent to him. Jack Morrison is one of the oldest vampires still awake, possibly the oldest, and consequently one of the most powerful. He knows of three or four who are much older than he is, but each of them has withdrawn to some remote location, falling into eternal slumber. Once a vampire falls into that state, they’re effectively dead. He’s lasted this long, he’ll continue to be fine hunting solo!

Jack takes great pride both in being a long-lived vampire and in being a blood mage. Not many vampires choose to practice blood magic. He’s only heard of one other who channels their magic through blood. The rest seemed to find it inferior to other types of magic, or even disgusting.  _ Fools! _ More than once he’s been accused of playing with his food, wasting a good meal for measly magic.    
  
Practically, vampires avoid blood magic because they can’t consume blood fueling magic, it’s like poison. Their bodies reject any blood that’s been used for powering a spell. ‘It’s a waste Jack,’ one told him, right before Jack killed them. Jack knows his fellows are too proud to spill blood and never get to enjoy a drop to drink.  _ It is a lot of work to gather blood for dinner and blood for spell work. They’re not work about that!  _ Despite all the extra work, however, Jack has found blood magic to be an extremely potent tool. Bats normally don’t grin, but the large silver one flying over the forest does.

With his power he could easily have his own collection of slaves, a castle and city of his own, assured meals, entertainment, and safety. But it isn’t a matter of power. Again, it’s a matter of pride. During that first century following their great victory, when he was still with Gabriel, it had been a bitter bone of contention. Gabriel wanted to gather slaves, wanted power against those who hunted them, wanted safety and comfort. The war was over, they won, but peace was fleeting and fragile. They had to make sure it lasted! At the time it was a revolutionary concept! Life-debts and the exchange or combination of power had always been a part of an inhuman’s life. The binding properties of sworn oaths made them too useful to ignore, but the system of one King with many slaves hadn’t always been so universal. Jack often speculated that Gabriel’s brilliant idea and probable success had helped popularize the practice.

Jack wouldn’t have objected to being Gabriel’s slave. Gabriel had been stronger even when they were mortal and Jack was willing to follow him once they were reborn as a Wraith and a Vampire. The problem was that Jack wouldn’t be the only one following him, and Jack didn’t want to share. The thought of sharing his Gabriel, of others enjoying that body which ought to belong to Jack alone… It drove him insane with jealousy. Jack had been possessive and territorial before their mortality was stripped away from them during that long forgotten war. Being changed into a vampire didn’t help those feelings at all, if anything it increased them.

They fought bitterly for months on end before Jack simply left without warning. Gabriel had made up his mind, and Jack couldn’t change it. What else was left to do? He would have followed Gabriel alone into hell itself but he couldn’t watch more and more beings make their claim on his Gabriel, couldn’t share. He refused to submit to Gabriel the King, and that was that.

Wrapped up in thoughts of what might have been, Jack found himself startled from his reminiscence about the past by the sight of his nest. The massive oak, deep in the heart of the forest stretched her branches wide with the appearance of welcome. The shape of her crown was really a relic of the lightning strike that brought them together. Her trunk split by the strike, her upper body almost torn in half, she was gravely wounded and likely to perish in the coming winter when Jack found her. Jack used a complex spell powered by his own blood to heal her in exchange for shelter. If he were any other inhuman, slavery would have been the price, but after the painful result of his argument with Gabriel, even the idea of taking slaves leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Jack hasn’t taken a single slave in the nearly 900 years since their separation.

Grateful for his help, and at such a small price, she gladly made a small chamber inside her trunk where he could sleep each night, as well as spare for his things. As the years passed on, and his friendship with Athena grew she let him add on a treehouse in her branches. Between his blood magic, the remote location, Athena’s oversight, and the lack of roads, his current home has proven to be a safe haven.

“Athena, I’m back,” Jack announces as he lands gracefully on his landing perch. Its an ornately carved stand in the shape of a sea dragon, located on the largest east facing balcony. His body warps from bat, to silver mist, to his humanoid vampire form, shedding his clothing to the wooden boards beneath his feet with one fluid use of vampiric magic. By now he has complete mastery over his body, removing his personal clothing is easy. His body is naked for Athena to enjoy, if she bothered to think of males in that manner. Athena doesn’t think of him in a sexual or romantic manner, and it’s not as if there’s a single corner of the forest she can’t observe, so if he wants to change into something other than drab hunting colors why waste time taking off his clothes by hand? Who knows, maybe one day she will take the time to admire his god like body. That has yet to happen; at best she makes sarcastic comments demeaning his manhood. He smiles. Such a good friend, not afraid to poke fun of him! It’s a nice change from the usual panicked deference he gets from every other being, human or inhuman, he bothers to talk to.

“You failed to catch dinner again.” Athena’s voice vibrates through the wood beneath his bare feet, her tone dry and unamused. One of her branches snaps against his bare ass, leaving a red mark.

“Failure implies I couldn't catch my meal. I didn't fail, I was interrupted. It was perfect hunting conditions, my dinner was assured.” Jack bares his fangs, eyes narrowing as he stalks over to his wardrobe. It seems she isn't the mood to play nice tonight. Something must be bothering her. If it hadn't been for that idiot parading through his carefully laid ambush… One hand rips a door open, and he scans his choices. He doesn't plan on getting bloody, so one of his pristine white suits will do nicely. Not that Jack has a lot of outfits. A large wardrobe implies he goes shopping. Interacting with humans, unless they’re his dinner, is beneath him, not to mention risky.

He’s halfway dressed when Athena politely interrupts, “Not white. You need to refresh the wards on the cairns tonight.” Shit. She’s right, like usual. Blood Magic and white suits don’t mix well at all.

Jacks lip curls at the amusement in her voice. Yanking off his shirt, his claws catch and tear the fabric. He tosses it aside and reaches for his red leather jacket and pants. It’s not hard to repair his clothing with magic, a little claw damage isn't a huge deal. He can repair his shirt later, it’s not hard to weave a spell that’ll undo the damage. Though they’re enchanted to repel stains, these clothes aren't meant for hunting; they’re meant for working magic. So many spells are in the red leather it’s amazing they haven’t grown a mind of their own! Such is one of the side effects of magic, enough of it in one place turns inanimate objects into thinking beings with a will of their own. Rather pesky at times actually! Not that he’s 'lost' clothing to sentience, he’s just heard the horror stories. Perhaps the one time he fought an enchanted suit of armor it had come into being that way. Not that he’d wasted the time while fighting for his life to ask how the thinking, self automated armor came to exist.

“There’s a gathering of red caps in the southernmost meadow,” Athena tells him, her voice fading, as she focuses her attention elsewhere in the forest.

“Thank you Athena. Is there anything you’d like me to bring back?” Jack is glad she told him about the Red Caps. Brutish, troublesome creatures, they are always harassing the more peaceful residents of the forest. But tonight they can finally contribute to the greater good. A cruel smile reveals his fangs. Their blood will suffice for the spell he needs to cast.

“I would appreciate some honey. There are fairies just west of your destination that should have some.” Athena’s voice returns to a normal volume as she returns her attention to Jack. Athena is preparing for winter, it’s just a few months away. She’s busy getting ready for the long sleep even now, and honey is a vital ingredient in some of the spells she casts. Most Dryads slumber during the winter, she is no exception. Jack wasn’t looking forward to the long months without her company, but he was used to being alone.

“Very well. I’ll be back by dawn.” Jack’s blood magic would make Athena gravely ill, so all of his spell casting must be done far away from her roots. He gives her a formal bow, his hand tight against his chest, then takes his leave, gracefully jumping from branch to branch until he lands on the ground.

Athena is one of the elder dryads in this forest, and the de facto matriarch. When Jack found her those many decades ago, just days after that fateful lightning strike, he didn’t know how many of the smaller magical beings living within the forest’s borders depended on her. When he took up residence, it opened his eyes to a new world. He isn’t certain what would have happened if she had died from that lightning strike, but he knows it wouldn’t have been good.

The more he learned about how the forest depended on Athena, the more he grew concerned at the lack of magical protection. He petitioned her to lift the ban on blood magic, just for him. It had been hard to convince her. Most blood mages were careless, poisoning the earth and water with sloppily discarded corpses, warping the natural magic with the pain and fear of their victims. Jack’s methods of working blood magic were just as atypical as his hunting methods. Once he showed her what he could do, without harming the forest, in fact helping it, she had relented.

Not that he produces traditional protection spells. The best he can manage in the traditional sense is a short lived shield. No, instead what he did was put nuisance spells throughout the forest. Trespassers can’t traverse the forest with any domesticated animal. He made that spell’s definitions generic on purpose, both pets and livestock cringe, spook, balk and shy, refusing to enter. Prey animals are subtly herded away from any potential hunters, while predators are encouraged to stalk and attack. In short, any unwanted guests find themselves plagued with the worst possible luck. And all of his spells are neatly placed on road cairns, he only needs to refresh the Master Ward, which then spreads the effects to all the linking wards. The forest acts cursed, yet all attempts to find any actual curses will fail. Thanks to his efforts, all human traffic, as well as most inhuman traffic, has ceased. Any intruder who presses on despite the various nuisance spells will find themselves against nigh unbreakable wards.

Jack often adjusts the wards based on what Athena hears on the grape vine. She easily gathers gossip because most of the residents tell her all about their lives. When he moved in, and proved friendly, he gained access to the flow of information she received. Before living with Athena, he considered the smaller magical residents of the world lesser beings. Now that he has to work with them, he’s grown to respect them.

Almost everyone has a cousin that lives in some city. This is how Jack knows about the comings and goings of other inhumans. Their closest neighbor is the Pumpkin King’s city, Nuevo Muerte. The forest close to it is called Blackwatch. He avoids that section like it’s the Blood Pox. Suddenly Jack feels oblivious.  _ That was whose magic I tasted earlier. I should have realized! Odd, I didn’t think he sent his higher ups so far out of his land... No matter, that ass’s minion ruined my dinner plans! _

A mysterious figure who had never really bothered Jack before, the Pumpkin King is a wraith of incredible power who resides in a large castle surrounded by a mixed human/inhuman city, and is generally hated by all human Hunters due to how untouchable he is. Jack hears a lot of news about human Hunters from the residents of the forest. Hunters kill all inhumans, even the small fairly harmless ones. It’s a survival tactic among the smaller inhumans to share all news, rumors, and gossip on Hunters.

Fairies really love gossip, and will talk for hours on end if their victim will hold still. No one has ever seen the Pumpkin King’s face is a favorite rumor, that he always wears a carved pumpkin as a head. He’s supposedly the first Headless Huntsman, the pixies say. His claimed lands border the edge of their forest, but until now the Pumpkin King has kept to his lands, never trespassing. Strictly speaking, there was no trespassing tonight either, but that section of unclaimed land is close enough for Jack to take notice.

Although he has no slaves, Jack is the unofficial King of this forest. The more he helped Athena manage the it, the more he ended up with a vested interest in keeping it safe and flourishing. While he will never become a true King as long as he refuses to take slaves, almost all of the smaller magical residents follow his orders. There are Laws in the forest, and treaties between the small tribes. Jack enforces them as judge, officer, and executioner, as needed. Those that don’t obey end up as fuel for his magics, with Athena backing his decisions. Politics are awful, even ones he has control over, but while Jack loathes them with a passion, and avoids such nonsense to the best of his ability, he still knows how they work. He can’t defend himself against threats he doesn’t understand.

The problem this causes is that everyone in the forest is off limits for him as a food source. Considering all the peace treaties and non-aggression pacts in place it would cause quite an uproar if he started hunting in the forest. And since they aren’t his slaves, he can’t command them to provide him with their blood. All his meals must be gathered and consumed far from his home. It hadn’t been an issue originally, but Hunters are starting to become much more effective.

The days of the lone hunter are over. Now they have a central guild, and every single member reports to it. They meticulously gather data on their prey: analysing the hunting grounds in question, the attacks used on the victims, and what type of undead caused it. Next, they share it freely amongst themselves, and finally they gather in large groups with the most effective weapons and go hunting. Unless you’re extremely powerful, getting caught by a group of Hunters is certain death. He wonders if this is humanity’s response to inhumans forming larger, more powerful groups. With entire cities ruled by immortal Kings, controlling everyone from the shadows, it wouldn’t be surprising.

_ I may need to see about possible agreements for acquiring meals. It’s getting harder and harder to find them on my own. How can I secure a deal for food without becoming a target for some power hungry King? _ Before that thought reaches any solid conclusions, Jack senses trouble. The usual sounds of the forest have stopped. No hooting of owls, chirping of crickets, or shuffling small creatures disrupt the night. Instead there is silence. Has he gotten that close to the meadow where the red caps are gathered already? His gaze flicks around, checking his surroundings; several stones lay in a jumbled heap just ahead of him, and beyond the stones lies the meadow.

Most of the neutral, and all the good magical creatures avoid this meadow. Too much blood has been spilled there. As souls pass through the Veil between the living and the dead, if their passing is sudden, violent, or exceptionally tragic, the soul doesn’t want to go. They tug at the very fabric of the Universe in a vain attempt to stay among the living. Violent deaths cause unease in the natural flow of magic itself. Such is the case here, the souls of the dead passing has tainted this section of forest beyond the tolerances of most creatures that can sense anything magical.

_ Ah, yes. I’m in the right area for them to ambush me! Should I act unaware of them and let them attack me to no avail? Or just call them to me, and cast the ward while they watch me kill their own, helpless? _ Jack decides on magical method. It’s much faster that way, and there are other he things he wants to do tonight. Best to get this over with quickly.

Jack is not a good being. He thrives on death, so the meadow doesn't bother him at all. Personally, the aura is appealing to his finely tuned magical senses, but the taint also disrupts sensitive spell work, or he would have set up his workshop here. Blood magic has to be woven very carefully, otherwise it causes too much strain. Thankfully, Jack knows a spell, one he picked from his first teacher, that negates this problem. Not powered by blood, and not a native vampire ability, it’s actually an adaptation of something from a siren. All he has to do is cast this specialized compulsion on the sacrifice and their soul has no clue what’s happening. In fact, they die blissfully, glad to be free of their body, which eliminates all of the 'grabbing at the fabric of reality to avoid death' bits.

That loophole is one reason why his blood magic is insanely hard to counter. All the counterspells he’s come across are based solely on the sacrifices’ souls dying horribly. Other blood mages are really missing out by continuing to terrorize their victims. Then again, if it was a common method, countermeasures would be more common too. It is one reason why Jack never takes on any students. If his atypical methods become well known, they'll get countered, and there goes one of his best protections. Jack puts one hand into a pocket and he reaches for a vial of blood. His fingers after a moment of blind searching, brushed against a small, glass vial. Inside is some blood. Fingernails pry off the cork and slick, cool liquid brushes against his finger tips. Power flows through him and he smiles. His other hand rises up to head level.

Spell now ready to cast, his fingers snap loudly, the sound echoing in the silence. Magic flowers through his hand coated with blood, through his body and into his other hand. Malice seethes through the magic, a lingering desire to hurt and maim. Jack’s source for his current set of blood came from a serial rapist. A nasty young man who whined about being a nice guy. The town Jack snatched that asshole from is a lot safer now! Again he snaps, this time with a powerful magical lure for anyone with ill intent to come forward. ‘ _ Come, join in. Malice here. Join in, come here all those who love to hurt!’  _ Lure set, Jack waits.    
  
Those with hatred in their hearts, those who thrive off malice, will be drawn to him. Red Caps are the perfect prey this. Not long after, a few small men come shuffling towards him. If it weren’t for the red caps on their head, they could be mistaken for brownies. One of them lets out a whine at spotting Jack. They all see him now, the knowledge it’s a trap bitter in their bodies. Hatred shows in their eyes as they struggle against the lure. However, vampires’ magic ages like wine, the older they are, the more powerful it gets; and Jack turns 1,000 in just a couple of years. It would take far more than some red caps to break his blood magic fueled compulsion.

Before long they are within arm’s reach. Their beady eyes glare pure hatred at him. Jack merely graces with them a smile, counting his haul. There are four in total, the perfect amount. His body reacts with faint hunger as his pale fingers wrap around the first one’s throat, lifting him up to eye level. It would be an easy meal; just drink his blood and be done with it. Alas, Jack is under treaty. Even if they are nothing more than nasty abominations who do no good, he is prohibited from consuming any denizen of the forest as long as he lives within Athena’s branches.

He gives the struggling red cap a very toothy smile, and a single fang slips out. “You four broke the laws.” Jack doesn’t bother to mention which laws. Red caps live off of torturing others, they can’t live without it. And while the laws are written so that unsavory magical beings can live here, Athena and the other Matriarchs made it clear that such activities are strictly forbidden inside the bounds of the forest. The panic the little men give off is enough to convict them. Although they could be as monstrous as they wanted outside the forest grounds, almost all creatures who live on the suffering of others fail to control themselves.

“Which suits me just fine. I need to refresh my wards. Your blood will suffice for the task.” Jack’s toothy grin is followed by a small, pleasant laugh. Swiftly he alters the compulsion, forcing them to follow behind him in a silent, docile line. One of them starts to cry, and the others struggle harder. Tiny legs shake, and small hands form into quivering fists, but they still follow behind him as he makes his way to his altar.

There’s a small section on the edges of the Athena’s domain where Jack has set up his workstation. Oh, it’s still part of the forest, but something else bigger and nastier controls the woods south of the dryads’ area. From the rare taste of Its magic he’s found, It feels like an old god. Gods are rare, but very real. Even as old as he is, he wouldn't last against one for more than a couple minutes at most. He doesn’t want to die, so he doesn’t look for more answers, but down here his blood magic won’t affect any of Athena’s people. He’s lucky that the old god living nearby seems uninterested in his magical affairs. Still, he has some of his best detection spells in place in case It decides to pay him a visit.

Centered in his work area is a large stone altar, and next to it a stand where he keeps a bowl for collecting blood, and a couple small knives. A total of six tables, and three chests for storing supplies surround the altar. All of them are tainted with his magic, any interloper would find themselves hexed if they touched anything.

Jack snaps out of his thoughts when the red cap he’s holding bites his hand. In an attempt to fight back, the little bastard managed to bite him! He didn’t manage to resist the spell enough to break the skin, but the action alone caught Jack’s attention. His eyes focus on the red cap in his hand. Pupils grow, turning the red of his irises into a thin red line around a bottomless pool of black.

“Rude,” he addresses the red cap before giving a sharper focus to his spell, forcing his victim to catch and keep his gaze. “Now just relax small one. You’re so very happy right now. Everything is wonderful.” When the body goes limp in his hand, that’s his cue it’s safe to work his spells. His free hand curls into a claw shape, sharp fingers slowly dig into the diminutive chest. Bones crack as he wiggles his fingers between the ribs, feeling for the heart. He finds it, beating slowly. Using his inhuman speed, he rips it out to hold it, still pumping, over a black, stone bowl. Each pump of the heart drips blood into the bowl, where hand-etched runes slowly come to life. These runes match the ones he’s marked on the road cairns. The moment the heart stops beating, Jack crushes it to squeeze out the last of the blood.

Meticulously setting the now useless lump of flesh on one of the many side tables, Jack repeats this with the remaining three red caps, the sickly red glow of the runes brightening with each addition. The common assumption is that the blood of pure, innocent virgins is the best for such spellwork. Jack has found, through trial and error, the blood of malicious assholes actually works best. Blood is important, and takes on the personality of the body it courses through; the blood of hateful beings wants to continue being nasty. Since almost all blood magic spells are malevolent in nature, he’s found that blood from evil people actually enforces the spellwork willingly. Another perk is no one really comes looking for the town asshole. Manhunts happen mere hours after a town’s sweet maidens start vanishing, but disappear the guy everyone hates and they’re practically throwing a parade in gratitude. Jack prides himself on keeping the population of assholes lower.

With a mental flick, Jack casts a spell and water start flowing through the black basin, washing all the blood into his disposal area. One of the reasons why experienced blood mages are rare is that the risk of tainting the land is very high. Bodies start piling up, the ground and water supplies are poisoned, people fall ill, and suddenly there’s a witch-hunt. He’s not surprised; anyone who wants safe drinking water runs them off when they’re so sloppy with spell material disposal. He spelled a section of ground to dissolve the bodies and left over blood into a mulch. His methods help the forest grow and stay strong. Once he explained it to Athena, and showed her the mulch, that was when she relented. Before he took up residence, blood magic was strictly taboo. An exception was created just for him, otherwise his enchantments would be outlawed, beneficial as they are.

Next on the agenda is gathering the honey Athena requested. Before their slumber during the winter, all Dryads do a lot magical preparation. While magic varies from species to species, Jack knows that it all has the same source. Humans use and cast magic vastly different from inhumans, and most small magical creatures cast it differently as well. Honey is important for her spellwork, and hmm… if he makes a slight detour after getting it, he can bargain for some fire honey as well. Athena would love getting some! He smiles at the thought of her reaction.

The forest runs on an exchange economy, similar to a human village, only there is no actual coin exchanged. Actions pay for goods here. From the least to the greatest, not even the rulers of the forest are exempt; Athena too needs to pay for what she uses. Nothing is free here, not even gifts. Gifts are a thanks for something; the law that all debts must be paid applies to even the smallest of magical creatures. Need something? Do an unpleasant job, or provide a specialized skill unique to your species.

What pays for Athena’s honey is the massive amount of credit Jack has acquired. Since he put his wards into place, human and inhuman traffic has trickled to a halt, and the forest is an absolute haven for smaller magical beings as a result. All the beings in the forest know this, and benefit from the peace. Thus, any living creature inside the forest simply gives Jack whatever he asks for, even if he hasn't helped them in person.

Fairies are always cheerful, and always causing trouble. Jack doesn't like dealing with them; every time they interact they try to annoy him, chirping at him with their squeaky voices and focusing their overly cheerful smiles in his direction. Fetching the honey is no exception, he's tormented the moment the damned things know he's there. No way in hell is he gathering honey by hand! He could, but that takes a lot of time, and is messy, and he doesn't want to waste magic gathering honey either. No, he’ll get it from the fairies and pixies that gather it, despite their pestering him.

Thanks to the many treaties in place, he can’t swat them away when they attempt to braid his hair while he is talking with their Queen. Instead he has to rely on telling jokes: really bad human jokes. As old as he is, his arsenal of puns is nigh bottomless. Fairies tend to be literal creatures, and puns actually give them headaches. Luckily, Queens are an exception, they have slightly more intelligence and can tolerate his jokes to keep away the crowds of overly curious fairies plaguing his personal space. Not always, more than once he's been cursed by a peeved fairy queen for his puns; thankfully nothing serious just an unpleasant hex to shut him up. 

“What does a tree feel in Spring? Re-leaf!” Jack says with a toothy smile, and all the fairies scatter. When he brings out the puns they all give him a wide berth. 

Pixies are bit trickier, and they have the fire honey he wants. Similar to fairies, they’re cheerful pests. Sadly they’re a step above fairies in intelligence, which means puns don’t work as a repellent. And of course the same treaty keeps them from harm so he has to use non-lethal methods. Jack’s trick for dealing with pixies is to charm something to look shiny. They’re drawn to shiny objects, similar to the crows they use as rides. And since he’s not nice, and he hates dealing with them, he always enchants animal shit. All it takes is some well placed illusions, and they’re too in love with the new sparkly pile of deer shit to give him the time of day. Most mages wouldn't be able to pull this off; pixies have an insanely high tolerance for magic, it slides right off of them. Luckily for Jack, he’s old enough that his magic can power through a pixie's natural resistance. All they see is a something shiny that they must play with, and end up covered wingtip to wingtip, head to toe, in feces.

Thankfully, the pixies don’t hate him for this; they see it all as a good joke on his part. A few times he’d ended up cursed by pixies, or other mischievous creatures. Not that their curses ever lasted long, but he did learn to respect them. Before moving into Athena’s realm, he assumed that any magical being smaller than a human was weak. How wrong he was! No, their magic is just different. More than once Jack has watched and studied the smaller beings cast their magic. Every time he’s left baffled how it works. In the end Jack leaves with a smile and the fire honey he wanted for Athena.

Before he even takes one step towards his nest though, a shiver runs down his spine. Someone powerful is attempting to bypass his wards, and the taste of their magic is pumpkin flavored. It seems that the high ranking minion that chased him off of his dinner earlier is paying the forest a visit. As the minion directly counters his magic with his own, Jack feels a shock run down his spine. He was mistaken, that isn’t a minion, it's The Pumpkin King himself! This high and mighty asshole is heading directly to the heart of the forest, implying he’s after Athena. Jack picks up his pace, if it comes down to a fight Athena will need his magic, and even then they might not win. They’re both powerful as individuals, but a King is the focal point for the power of all his slaves. The question is, why is their neighbor, who ignored them for so long, finally paying Athena a visit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this lovely art of my fanfic!!  
>   
> Here's a link to the artist's SFW Tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
> [Sessomesmaru](http://sessomesmaru.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I also have a Tumblr! It's pretty uneventful, but you're welcome to take a peek at it.  
> [My Tumblr](http://darthumbreon.tumblr.com/)


	2. A Lovely Night for a Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is out for a ride, and finds traces of magic that remind him of someone long dead. It sours his night, but things thing really go askew when an old friend, Mercy, tasks him with fetching an apple from a Dryad. How can hard can it be to get an apple from this Athena?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rough draft, it's taking my beta far longer to edit then originally anticipated. When I post chapter three, I'll be reposting chapter two that's all magically better.

It’s a perfect night for a long ride. It’s been a few months since the Pumpkin King took his favorite Hell Horse, Shade, out into the world for any great distance. He has no pressing business to take care of in the next couple of days, so he’s going on a long ride tonight. Shade needs to run to stay healthy, it’s not good for him to stay in the stables all the time. Any creature designed for war and killing is wasted in the stables. Gabriel enjoys taking him out just to show off the beauty that is two thousand five hundred pounds of magical fire and death, terrifying anyone who sees them dash past in the night.

He’s riding through unclaimed territory, so Shade can really stretch his legs without offending the ruler of the lands he’s driving those deadly hooves into mile after mile. Every time Shade’s powerful hooves hit the ground, embers spray outwards, electricity arcs wildly, and a magical ability unique to Hell Horses digs deep into any surface to help propel the massive body forward at breakneck speeds. It looks impressive, and is useful in battle, but it’s terrible for day to day use. Riding in unclaimed lands means he won’t have to fork over the large sums of gold required to repair the roads Shade tears apart with his massive horseshoe-protected keratin cloppers. Once he made the mistake of showing off Shade in a neighboring kingdom. The six hundred thousand gold it cost to repair the roads was not worth it. The Pumpkin King has a few roads, built and magically reinforced so he can get Shade safely in and out of his own lands. 

 

Not wanting his glorious ride disrupted by another inhuman, he announces his arrival with magic. A flamboyant magical display is a loud trumpet blast for any possible audience. If they’re smart, anyone who notes his entrance will be suitably impressed, and leave him alone. An abrupt drop in the temperature, an increase in the wind’s speed and strength, deliberately counter to the way it had been blowing, and he now has a lovely dramatic entrance, fitting for a King of his stature. Gabriel has plenty of power to spend on his own majesty, he’s been gathering slaves for so long that the cost of such spells no longer even registers with him.

 

Roughly a mile ahead is the start of a mountain pass. One of the few mountain passes traveled at all hours of the day. Two large towns, each one having a full Traders Guild, sit on either side of the pass. Thanks the frequent use, this road is paved with cobblestone instead of the traditional packed dirt roads found outside of cities. The cobblestone road makes the most delightful noises as Shade thunders down it, tiny shattered fragments of stone tossed upwards. This is why he loves to travel along this stretch, the proper paving. It’s much harder to get a dramatic ride in without a paved road to travel on. 

 

As long as he’s careful not to take Shade down this road for a couple of years after tonight, it shouldn’t need immediate repairs. Gabriel is sure he’s met the current local ruler, but their name isn’t coming to mind. At this point, it’s mostly cosmetic damage. If he’s careful, they won’t need to replace it soon enough to cause him a political-nightmare-induced migraine. Oh, they’ll know it was Shade who damaged the road, but the politics involved to chide him over non-catastrophic damage aren’t worth their time. He’s made sure of it; only important issues are worth an audience with him. Mere complaints about minor damage to a road aren’t on that list. The inhuman ruler who controls these lands will foot the bill for replacing the shattered cobblestones. 

 

When he first started gathering slaves, King wasn’t even considered a separate term from the version used by local rulers. Later, as his power spread and others mimicked his actions, various titles got tossed around. Finally, nearly two centuries after he solidified his power, they were standardized. To become a King, an inhuman, or occasionally a human, must amass exactly one thousand slaves. Once they can prove they have that many slaves, respect, tax breaks while dealing with foreign Traders Guilds, immunity from most Hunters, and many other benefits come to them with the title. That’s why so many inhumans trick others into being their slaves. They desire the official position of King, and all the perks that come with it. As the Pumpkin King, Gabriel has gathered the largest number of slaves ever acquired, and is the most powerful King he knows.

 

As the sounds of Shade’s hooves echo on the mountain walls and carry into the distance, it proves what Shade’s private veterinarian firmly tells him, they’re not hooves, they’re “death is coming phalanges.” Personally, he believes those words best describe Shade’s hooves when they’re coated in blood after a battle. Coupled with his own fine-tuned evil cackle, the auditory effects are glorious to witness. Briefly he wonders what others think of his dramatic entrances. Surely they’re in awe of him, afraid of his presence certainly, but do they register any other emotions? Perhaps he’ll ask an advisor about it, and stage his entrances to inspire other emotional reactions.  

 

As he nears the entrance, where a large stands of birch trees marks the start of the pass, the faintest tingle of magic brushes down his spine as he comes near another immortal. Whoever they are, they’re already taking their leave and they’ll be long gone by the time he arrives. This doesn't bother him, it's probably some minion of the local ruler scurrying in fear of their lives. Faint traces of the fleeing immortal whisk past him. Their leaving is what he desires, he wants to enjoy his ride in peace, but out of habit, he tastes the scent of magic as it flows past him, like a lingering touch from a lover. A jolt, similar to electricity, runs down his spine at the taste, and any joy he felt from his ride runs as dry as a playa lake in the summer. Whoever it was, the taste of their magic reminded him strongly of Jack Morrison. Fuck, he’d hoped to dodge those memories today! 

 

There isn’t a single day that goes by that he isn’t reminded of Jack in some manner. That fucking, rude, inconsiderate bastard left him with no warning! Hands tighten on the reins, the leather creaking in protest inside his fists. Something about gathering slaves displeased Jack, but the bastard never told him what it was! No matter how he explained the importance of gathering slaves, how it would help their odds of survival, Jack refused to budge on his extreme dislike of the idea. Not once could he get convince Jack to tell him exactly what upset him about his plan. They fought bitterly for months, Gabriel trying to discover the source of Jack’s dislike. Gabriel had every intention of solving Jack’s issues if only the stubborn ass would tell him what they were! Then, Jack just… vanished into the night without a trace. 

 

For decades he scoured the land for his wayward vampire lover. When he couldn’t find Jack as a King, he started looking for whoever had the nerve to take his Jack as their slave. With only so many inhuman Kings in the world, Gabriel ought to have found Jack under one of them. Nor did he have any luck finding Jack as a slave to someone unable to reach King status when he lowered his expectations. Centuries went by and there was still no sign of Jack. Eventually he had to admit that Jack had probably died to some human Hunter. Not that it stopped Gabriel from loving Jack, even after all this time, even knowing he was dead and dust by now. 

 

Gabriel is still bitter about making it to the top, as the most powerful of Kings, a journey he started for a lover who had the gall to die on him. It’s been nearly nine hundred years since he last talked with Jack. There’s not a lot of joy in his job when he doesn’t have Jack to share it with, but he continues to do it out of habit, duty, and platonic love. He’s grown fond of a lot of his slaves, they’re like a family to him. If he just… gives up because he’s lonely, he puts a lot of lives at risk. 

 

All pleasure in his ride is gone after the stark reminder of his loss. The click of his tongue sounds different thanks to the Pumpkin used in place of his head, but is still a recognizable signal to his Hell Horse. He backs up his command with the reins, moving to turn Shade homeward. Shade, the obnoxious animal, tosses his head in complaint, his black mane fluttering in the wind, turning his head around to glare. Eyes glowing red from an inner fire, unique to this species of Hell Horse, stare accusingly. Embers, from the fire glowing deep within the Hell Horse's body, erupt outwards in a wide spray. Thankfully, nothing catches on fire, unlike certain incidents in the past. One of the reasons he has the environment grow cold with his arrival, it lowers the fire risk Shade presents, because any moisture in the air turns into frost. One of the many reasons he chose to live in a fairly humid locale is because of the ability to create frost easily. Legs planting firmly on the road, Shade refuses to budge despite his command to go back.

 

“I know, you rarely get out these days. I’ll make it up to you when we get back with a delicious treat. I promise.” Gabriel mutters, voice reassuring. Hell Horses are nitpicky about treats, he’ll need to find something really tasty to make up for cutting the ride short. With a loud, disgruntled snort, spraying embers everywhere, Shade finally starts to head back. When Shade is upset, his own magical nature, rooted deep in the raw elemental magic to create fire, often overrides any in place protections to prevent them. There’s one of many reasons why he rarely uses Shade for just getting around his own city, and only takes him for long rides far from his own lands!  _ Or, when I need to go into battle. His ability to create fire has proven useful in battle many times!  _ One hand reassuring pats the quivering neck, velvet soft black fur restless under his fingers, as Shade much more slowly, heads back. From the corner of his eyes, he spots a small fire that did catch, despite the layers of frost on the ground. Quickly, he puts out the fire Shade started. No need to cause wildfires! That could pose an actual risk to his own lands, if the fire actually took hold in the forest.

 

It’s a short ride back, thanks to Shade’s ground-eating gallop. He can maintain it for hours, but it’s hardly necessary in this case. Hell Horses can jump over just about any obstacle too, so there’s really nothing to slow their return. 

 

There’s no moon tonight, and even the stars are hiding behind the clouds. If it weren’t for the glow of his Pumpkin, and the fire coming off of Shade, they’d blend in with the abundance of shadows. As a Hell Horse, literally born from a pit of lava deep under the ground, Shade is an amazing mixture of flesh and fire. His home, Castle Blackwatch, is set on, and within, one of the many mountains of the Spire Range. There’s a fair sized town surrounding his Castle, mostly populated by humans. Most of the mortals in his domain are aware an immortal runs the Castle, and owns their town, but due to his fair rule, they accept him with a smile. This keeps the Hunters at bay, since if the local humans don’t ask them for aid, there isn’t a lot they can do. Hunters must also follow the rules, and killing law-abiding citizens in a town is not tolerated, even if they are monsters. In the areas ruled by inhumans, there are lots of political rules that keep Hunters in line. If a Hunter kills an inhuman that isn’t sanctioned, their Guild faces reprimands from other Guilds, as well facing trouble from local law enforcement. Even Hunters need to eat, and the Merchants, Traders, and Weapon Masters Guild will rise the prices of anything sold to a Hunter. Also causing trouble for Hunters who kill an innocent, is that anyplace they sleep in a town is no longer safe. When the local law enforcement comes to any building housing a Hunter, the people always turn over the culprit. It’s too expensive to fight the law, because the law has the backing of the Guilds. It is one of the many reasons why he takes such good care of his mortals. By looking out for them, they in turn help keep away Hunters. 

 

Every single human that pays taxes in his realm is safe from immortals. The Pumpkin King protects his humans just as well as his inhuman slaves, and his fairness to mortals is well known across the land. Hell, he has the best ranked hospital for over five hundred miles for treating mortals. Muerte Hospital, terrible name aside, is one of the best for treating mortals injured by inhumans. In fact, it’s the only nonprofit mortal hospital on this side of the divide! Housed within a massive, black and grey stone building, at twenty stories it’s easily one of the most recognizable buildings in Nuevo Muerte. Often, he gets new citizens that move in just for the public health care. The Pumpkin King takes great pride in taking care of his mortal subjects, and that includes free health insurance for all citizens, human or inhuman. 

 

In fact, he often detours down the road that takes him past Muerte Hospital whenever he rides through his city. Hundreds of small sized, hand crafted black gargoyles stare down at him from various ledges on the hospital. Shade is walking in a very fancy, slow gait as he rides past. He often gets handwritten letters from children that are getting treatment in Muerte Hospital. For every single child that dies in the walls, he has a unique gargoyle made in their honor, Although he rarely has time to visit the hospital in person, it’s his way of showing he acknowledges their letters to him. There are a couple secretaries whose sole job is writing back to the letters he gets from his subjects, but they always give him a personal report on the children’s letters. Small, pale faces peek out of the windows to watch him go past. He gives them a wave of his hand, several small hands waving back. Once he’s cleared Muerte Hospital, his intended path takes him past the largest Guard House. His passing that particular building is also intentional.

 

This peace between human and inhuman is strictly enforced at all times. As a result, there are numerous guard stations containing highly trained humans and inhumans. Nuevo Muerte has a theme with all the buildings, and that is death. All buildings must be made from local stone, which is either black, grey, or bone white. Most buildings have intricate carvings of skeletons on the walls. Fences are often styled after bones, not traditional metal spikes. It’s a rather intimidating to strangers. However, the exception in this creepy motif being Guard Houses. These buildings are always made entirely from smooth, black stone, with zero decoration. Just unadorned black buildings, so anyone can easily know where the Guards are in case they need assistance. All visitors to the city are told what a Guard House looks like. Wandering immortals don’t last long if they even look at his citizens with hunger in their eyes. His Guards are a big part of that. They’re paid an impressive salary, and get training weekly. This is one of the ways he keeps his Guards doing their best at all times. Guard Houses are the few exceptions to inhumans living within the city. 

 

The Pumpkin King has nearly six thousand inhuman slaves, most of them residing within the Castle walls. The only exceptions are inhumans housed at Guard Houses. All of the predatory immortals under his control live inside the Castle. Inhumans that become Guards are heavily tested beforehand, and certain kinds are never allowed to join. He has found the hard way that if inhumans are kept separate they’re less tempted to snack on their human neighbors. Only inhumans that don’t see humans as a food source are allowed to live outside of the Castle. There have been exactly four such incidents under his rule, all of them within the first couple of centuries. He’s figured out how to run things smoothly the hard way, and he refuses to allow any more mishaps. 

 

All of the roads in Nuevo Muerte are paved to withstand a Hell Horse’s hooves, but some roads are better at handling those killer kickamabobs than others. Most of the creatures in his stables shed fire as a side effect. Thankfully, he’s only had one fire caused by his choice of mounts. It did, however, lead to a massive overhaul in how he has his cities built. Muerte may be lost due to fire, but Nuevo Muerte will not suffer the same fate. Anti-fire charms are also in place on every single structure. They’re often done as runes on a red skull, but some buildings have the runes put on other decorations. As a responsible King who adores mounts that are infamous for starting fires, he takes fire safety very seriously. No one loses a home, or a building, to a fire in his city: one of the many perks he offers to all residents, paid for by taxes. 

 

For nights like this, where his rides are for pleasure, not duty, he enters his castle through a small, private side gate. There are too many people that demand his time. If he wants anything done for pleasure, he has to make his entrances very discreet. Thankfully, his human subjects never accost him. No, his issue comes from pushy inhumans that haven’t learned their place yet. An unusual surprise is waiting for him upon his arrival. Angela Ziegler, more commonly known as The Witch, or Mercy, is at the gate her gaze boring straight into him. 

 

She makes her demands on his time known the moment he is within earshot. “I need an apple from the Dryad Athena.” Her voice is tart, and sharp. “She’s one the many Dryads living in the Overwatch forest.” Her arms are crossed and there’s a small smile on that angelic face. “You should be able to fetch it for me tonight, barring any trouble you may encounter.”

 

Gabriel just sighs, not even bothering to dismount. It isn’t really a surprise that such a powerful Witch needs a magical apple. The timing is what’s surprising, and the demanding tone. Usually when Mercy wants something from him, she’s very sly and indirect. This is a flat out demand, and she hasn’t thrown one at him in nearly three centuries! She isn’t technically his slave, although she resides in his Castle. As a powerful Witch, Mercy is actually somewhat of a traveling diplomat and healer. No one really easily claim her as a slave, and she proves too useful for anyone King to go through the effort of making her their slave. There would be too much backlash, if not flat out war. He could, in theory, claim her as a slave thanks to his reputation, but he doesn’t want too. Instead, he just insists Mercy’s permanent home is at his Castle. She’s rarely here for a week at a time, but it is the place she returns too. Recently she’s been badgering him about taking better care of himself. Implying that his wraith’s blood is becoming sluggish, and he needs to find his will to live again. Personally, he thought her words to be pointless. There’s zero chance of his blood becoming so sluggish that he falls into eternal slumber!

 

“The payment I offer you in exchange for fetching me this apple is your heart’s desire.” The Witch gives him a bigger smile, which turns sharp and wicked. Nothing among immortals is done for free, and her offer is intriguing. Mercy is an old friend. She was with him and Jack, back before they became immortal. When she offers him his “heart’s desire”, she means it, unlike the trap it would be from somebody else. She’s a clever one, and she has some game going on with this whole “fetching a magical apple” quest. Since she’s an old friend he trusts and adores, he’ll play along. Still, she’s made an offer for an object. The Laws that govern all magical beings, large and small, say if he brings back this apple she’ll provide something his heart desires. Whatever game she’s playing has already tempted him, so he may as well get it over with tonight. 

 

“Very well.” A flick of his wrist signals Shade to head back out of the gate. The path to the Overwatch forest is simple road, not even paved. There is a lot of farmland, and wilderness. He’ll need to have anti-fire charm going to keep Shade from starting a fire. Practically dancing with delight, hooves making sharp noises on the stone beneath, Shade turns around and races back the way they came.

 

Shade pounds down the numerous winding outside of the city limits. It takes him easily an hour to clear, before he starts to reach the roads not actually part of the city. Once clear of the roads in Nuevo Muerte, all of which are paved with cobblestone, the road shifts to packed dirt. For miles, Shade carries him past farmland, that shifts to orchards, before finally shifting to bush filled wilderness. Carefully placing a ‘do not catch anything on fire’ charm over anything that comes off Shade, The Pumpkin King admires the scenery. Most of it land he hasn’t personally inspected since he first took command. The closer he gets to the forest, the more neglected the road gets. He doesn’t remember the roads being this bad, and a feeling of unease rolls down his spine. Something is wrong here, but he can’t figure out what. There are weeds growing wild along the sides of the road, well above the limits humans allow. A massive fire hazard he wouldn’t tolerate. 

 

These are still his lands, why aren’t the locals doing their sworn duty to keep the weeds at bay? Don’t they know about the fire hazard Shade presents? Not to mention, he’s known for his passionate collection of fire elemental animals! He shouldn’t have to worry about this! Someone will get reprimanded in the morning! Low growls of annoyance escape his lips as once more the spell preventing fire triggers. Usually the anti-fire charm isn’t needed this badly, and the constant drain on his magic is grating on his nerves. Tall weeds leave too many places for an ambush, as well as the fire risk. What about the increased risk from bandits? What the hell is going on with this section of road? There are no deep ruts, implying no large wagon traffic. Something about that is very wrong, and it pisses off Gabriel that he is so unaware of what is happening in his Kingdom! When he took over the Castle, this road was said to be traveled heavily on the maps. Nothing was reported to him that would cause the road to fall into neglect; no reports of rogue inhumans, nothing on human bandits, no reports at all!  A chill goes down his spine as he spies a lone cairn at the entrance to the woods. A nondescript pile of rocks, mostly made up of local black basalt mark the entrance. The cairn feels rotten, but he can’t explain why his mind thinks that. Shade starts to slow down, his hooves dancing to a nervous halt just past the cairn. Looks like his Hell Horse hates the thing too, but it doesn’t look or feel enchanted. 

 

“Go!” Gabe snaps the reins, urging Shade forward. For the first time since he acquired Shade, one of the finest Hell Horses he’s ever owned, the horse flat out refused his orders. Gabriel could use pain, magic, or both to force his horse onward. 

 

Many Kings he’s fought in the past wouldn’t hesitate to do so. No, Shade is a Hell Horse, and a damn good one at that. If he refuses to continue on, Shade must have a good reason. As Gabriel starts to dismount, one foot still in stirrups, while his other foot just passing into the actual forest the wind suddenly blows. The sudden movement of tree branches actually spooks Shade, who has never acted such a way before. Gabriel, the all powerful Pumpkin King, finds himself flying through the air. He lands ungracefully in a shallow puddle, a hard landing causing him to form a pile of clothing, Wraith, and muddy debris splattering all over. For the first time in well over five hundred years, he is caught completely off guard. Mud splatters on his expensive clothing, ruining several parts of it.

 

This is proving to be an unexpected challenge. Gabriel can’t go back. He agreed to do this, and if he doesn’t return with an apple, there will be Consequences. Sure, its an open ended promise, he could return the Apple in a thousand years from now, but it’s also a matter of pride. He hasn’t been unable to deliver on a simple promise in ages. It shouldn’t be that hard! Usually it’s a good idea to be prompt with keeping promises, even open ended ones. The Laws that govern all magic are very strict about an immortals word; once given, it can’t be broken without grave repercussions. In extreme circumstances, if an immortal breaks their given word, the very magic that makes them is undone. The mess created from such an event is bad enough to even turn his stomach. This is a small task, he wouldn’t face becoming undone if he breaks his word. Shade backs away from him, as his hands reach out to grab the dangling bridle reins. It looks like Shade refuses to go into the forest.

 

If Shade refuses to carry him, then Gabriel must go on foot to reach Athena. He doesn’t even travel fifteen yards into the forest, branches swaying overhead, when he trips over a root. Barely he catches himself from landing Pumpkin down in the mud, gloved hand desperately failing around to grab something to prevent his fall. His efforts caused several tears on his shirt sleeve due to the closest object to slow his fall; a blackberry bush. Tiny blossoms of pain blossom from the few areas thorns manage to dig into his flesh, shirt ripped to pieces in his attempt to save his dignity. This shirt cost a small fortune! And how in the world did he, the Pumpkin King, trip over a mere root? He looks behind him, there are no such roots big enough for him to trip over! Glad that no one is around to witness him tripping over thin air, he glares at the path in front of him. No roots appear to be a threat to his feet, and dignity, for the next several yards. Now he’s angry at himself for looking like a fool. Countless branches tug at his clothing every step of the way, he can feel his outfit getting ripped apart with every step. More than one bird, hidden in the trees above also managed to land their shit on his coat, shirt, head, and legs. Dust, twigs, and other small airborne debris lodge themselves in his Pumpkin making vision difficult. Not a single piece of his outfit is spared from ruin. Everything in the forest appears out to get him, targeting his clothing with a vicious disregard to how expensive it is!  

 

Snarls of rage built in his throat, his clothing is above such abuse! He freezes mid step. His foot slowly lowers as he thinks about what is going on exactly. Every inch of his outfit should be above such mundane nuisances, he’s enchanted it that way. The only way his clothing could get this dirty is if a stronger magic is overriding his. Carefully, he feels the air around him with magic, tasting it. What he finds leaves a sour taste on his tongue, the magic tasting like something he once knew, but since grown rotten. There’s an incredibly powerful, multilayered, curse on this entire forest and it’s powered by Blood Magic. He’s encountered curses before, but not layered like this. 

 

These are small, low key, all non lethal curses used by first year mages, the only difference is that they’re maintained by a Master. He hasn’t encountered a clumsy spell since he attended wizard school nearly nine hundred years ago! Such curses would make long term travel through the forest impossible for anyone unaware of them. This explains his back luck, and ruined clothing. No one is going into the forest because of the curses! Interesting, despite the enchantments being powered by Blood Magic, the exact wording of the spells makes the results always non fatal. He has never encountered Blood Magic that isn’t written to have death be the end result. Such a novel approach to Blood Magic fascinates the Pumpkin King. Merely, these blood fueled curses are meant to make any intruder more and more miserable without actually killing them! There’s also a spell in among the many combined curses to sap away hope, while inspiring despair and rage. Also tucked in the many curses is one to spook animals so broadly worded even his Hell Horse is caught up in it; all inhuman and human traffic in the forest is done on foot. Suddenly Shade’s refusal to carry him past the entrance makes sense. 

 

No wonder the road here looks abandoned, the place is actually cursed to make it so no one wants to enter, much less make the journey if they bother to continue on. The ingenuity of it all impresses Gabriel. He hasn’t seen such a fine spell crafting since he killed his last real rival, over three centuries ago. Due to the very wording of the spells, it seems like this forest is cursed, without anyone actually being able to find one! No one wonder no one reported any issues to him! If the locals can’t find proof of a curse, then their complaints would seem baseless. So they’d let the roads go to ruin, because they can’t justify their actions to him. He’ll need to have one his stewards deal with the locals, and get the road back up to his standards. No one will be punished, but this neglect can’t be allowed to continue, cursed forest or not! However, now he has other issues to deal with.

 

When did he get such a powerful neighbor? Surely someone as powerful as this Blood Mage would make themselves known to him? That’s how most powerful mages operate, even the few Blood Mages he’s worked with in the past. Then again, perhaps they didn’t announce their arrival on purpose. The very setup of the enchantments is subtle, not meant to be to be easily detected. Everything works around keeping people away without being obvious that it isn’t bad luck, but actual curses. All the other mages who can weave such powerful magics have been flashy show offs, but not this mage. Who is this mysterious spell caster? Now Gabriel really wants to talk to Athena, enchanted apple or not. However, his clothing has taken enough abuse! There may still be some it that can be salvaged when he returns. Magic glows in his hands, as he puts a continuous counter curse spell around him like a shield. He times the refresh of the counter spell to match the rhythm of the curses flowing through the air, slamming against his impromptu shielding, and he just powers through the curses as he continues on his way. 

 

Problem solved, the remainder of his trip through the forest proved uneventful. How long has this Blood Mage lived in Overwatch? If the state of the road is any indication, it’s been several decades, but not long enough to be a full century. Already the forest is reclaiming the road. Still, there is enough of the manmade structure to provide service for his needs. That means it hasn’t been neglected by human, or inhuman, foot traffic for a century. Some of the denizens of the forest are using the road, but not bothering to actually maintain it to the standards suitable for someone like him. It bothers him that such a powerful neighbor slipped past him so easily, and stayed unknown until now. Is his ability to keep a tight reign on his lands slipping? Perhaps Angela is correct, his age is starting to get to him. What is that she is always nagging on him to do? Oh, right find something that interests him and keeps him active, preventing his blood from becoming sluggish. Once he gets his heart’s desire that shouldn’t prove a problem. Gabriel isn’t certain what his heart desires, but Angela wouldn’t put such a high price on something easily obtained. What is her game? Her words come back to him, about him being able to do this in night, granted he not encounter trouble. She knew about the Blood Mage!  

 

An apple magically created by a Dryad has many uses for a Witch, and will not be cheap. Whatever the Dryad will require in payment will be steep, either in cost of gold or magic. Thus, the cost of acquiring his heart’s desire, per the Laws that govern these exchanges, must be equally high. Excitement courses through him, quickening his pace. He hasn’t had such a challenging task in ages, and the unknown reward is just within his grasp. As powerful as he is, surely there is something he can offer a mere Dryad, they’re simple creatures. The real challenge is getting to the Dryad. He’s past those curses, so now he can focus on the future rewards. As his thoughts drift to what his heart’s desire could be, Gabriel stumbles into the Dryad’s domain. Sadly, this is a literal entrance as some damned gnome trips him just as he reaches the clearing. He hasn’t botched an entrance in nearly six hundred years! Hands curl into fists, and he forces himself not to kill the gnome. Damned thing laughs at him before vanishing into the undergrowth. It takes him a couple seconds to compose himself, hands uncurling into a more a calm pose.

 

“What do you want Pumpkin King?” A tired sounding voice demands from the largest oak tree Gabriel Reyes has ever set eyes on. Athena’s trunk is easily thirty feet in diameter, her upper most branches invisible among the forest canopy. Materializing out of the ground, dirt gracefully falling off her figure, is a thick set looking woman. Not the typical slender, angelic looking Dryad’s he’s encountered in the past. Not that he’s talked with a lot of Dryads! They’re beneath his notice. Hard brown eyes, capped with untamed russet locks, glare at him. Lips spread in a hard thin line, as her arms crossed over her bare chest. There is nothing showing pleasure at the sight of him. This is not how he planned on his first impression going. Usually when he graces other rulers, they at least pretend to be pleased at his presence!

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Athena.” Gabriel says, bowing deeply, his right hand making a respectful motion. He goes by the proper etiquette for greeting another King, even if this just a Dryad Matriarch. If he didn’t need something, he wouldn’t be forced to show such deference.  

 

“I’m busy. I don’t want to play your dumb games. What do you want?” Athena’s tone is blunt. 

 

“Ah…” Gabriel scrambles for a polite reply. Both hands curl into fists, as he struggles to word his request nicely. He’s always gone into such exchanges with the scales tipped in his favor. This isn’t going how he envisioned it all! Why couldn’t she play the rules he knows? “I need an apple. One you create with magic.” There, since she is blunt, is must be acceptable for him to be as well.

 

“No. Now be gone.” Athena’s lips curl into a sneer, her body already starting to dissolve back into dirt.

 

“No! Wait! I need an apple! Surely there is something I can give you!” Gabriel half begs, half demands as he takes a step forward, one hand reaching for the figure.

 

“There is nothing that one of your kind can offer me, that is worth what you so carelessly demand. Now go away!” Athena’s voice grows in volume, the very ground vibrating with her words.

 

“I will not leave without…” Before Gabriel can finish, a pressure starts building around the pumpkin that serves as his head. Magical force overrides his own protections, causing the pumpkin to explode, orange goo splattering outwards violently. Frantic to stop this happening, he throws his own magical protections in place. Despite this, the sheer force behind the attack plows through his, resulting in his pumpkin to explode. It doesn’t hurt, but he hasn’t lost a magical engage in a long, long time. His pride hurts.  

 

Silence. There is nothing but shocked silence as pieces of his head rain down. No one has openly attacked Gabriel in centuries, much less successfully landing a hit him! While he’s out in public like this, he has no head. Instead he wears a pumpkin. It’s part of how he built up the image of The Pumpkin King. Quickly he tastes the spell used against him, it has the same bitter taste as the Blood Mage who keeps up the curses. Again, the magic tastes so familiar like a favorite food that has gone bad. Looks like the forest’s protector has shown up. Interestingly enough, the spell used to destroy his pumpkin wasn’t meant to hurt him. No real damage was done, it was targeted to destroy his pumpkin without causing his body any real harm. It was clearly a polite, non lethal warning shot. Whoever this is, knows who he is, and is playing the politics game in ways he hasn’t bothered with in ages. 

 

“JACK MORRISON! YOU ARROGANT PESTILENCE! You can’t just explode someone’s head like that!” Athena’s scream breaks the silence. 

 

“But I just did. It was frightfully easily to.” Drawls a familiar voice, one Gabriel hasn’t heard in ages.  

 

The sound of that voice, causally filling the air like he hasn’t been missing for centuries, sends a chill down Gabriel’s back. Just leaning against Athena’s trunk, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, is Jack. His Jack. Stunned into immobility, Gabriel just looks at the vampire. That magic he tasted, is Jack’s! He knows of course that Blood Magic alters the very taste of the magical being using it, why didn’t he figure out it was Jack sooner? Greedily his senses take in the sight of his missing lover. Even though he lacks a visible head, the magic that makes up a Wraith allows him to ‘see’ everything in range of what a human would be able too. With something acting as a head, his body’s magic flows into the object giving him advanced senses, improved vision, so forth. Damn, he wishes he could see Jack properly!

 

“Jack…” Athena growls at Jack, her arms shaking by her side. Body shifting to face Jack, the ground shifting restlessly by her very moment, the Dryad Matriarch turns her full attention to Jack, who just smiles and offers a one handed wave.

 

“What?” Jack makes a sad sound, one of his hands going over his chest, and flutters his eye slashes at Athena. While Jack plays innocent, Gabriel snaps out of paralysis. He can’t just stand here like a love sick loon! Mind jumping into over time, Gabriel looks at Jack is doing, trying to figure out his next move. “He wasn’t leaving like you asked. So I decided to help convince him not to hang around. It’s not like I hurt him. Nor did I get your roots bloody! I know how much you hate that.” Jack offers a faux sniffle, one hand wiping away a nonexistent tear, as Athena bears her wrathful gaze down upon the vampire. 

 

“Oh! Are you mad because I damaged a pumpkin? You never warned me against hurting a vegetable. I suppose since you’re a tree, my killing a veggie would be upsetting.” Jack’s tone is light and teasing, his natural charm rolling off him in thick waves, and it’s backed by a lot of magical charm as well. Gabriel is amused by Jack’s act, but very interested to Athena’s reaction to it. He always did enjoy watching his lover ham it up, years ago. Looks like Jack hasn’t changed much in his ways, after all this time. What he is paying more attention to is Athena. The Matriarch, ruler of the forest, isn’t treating Jack like a servant or a slave. No, this is a more dynamic duo, a partnership between equals. Jack has power in this place, and all his remorse is an act. This sort of thing Gabriel recognizes, glad to know that politics among leaders aren’t that different outside of inhuman, and human, ruled lands.

 

“You’re an asshole Jack.” Athena’s tone holds no heat, and Gabriel is getting annoyed at them continuing to ignore his presence. Now that he knows what political game they’re playing, he wants to join in. How dare they just converse freely while ignoring him? If he wasn’t also watching Jack, he’d find this grievance against him unforgivable. 

“Isn’t that why you love and adore me?” Jack smiles, fangs politely kept from showing. A rare sign of respect from Jack, Gabriel reassess Athena. Actual respect from Jack is hard to earn, and somehow this lesser being, did just that. Suddenly, no longer against the trunk, Jack is right next to Athena’s body a small pot of honey in his right hand. 

 

“Look what I brought you! Honey just like you asked me and…” with an elaborate motion of his hand, Jack pulls out a second pot filled with burnt sienna colored fluid seeming from thin air, from just behind Athena’s head. Gabriel checks for magic, and finds none. Apparently Jack learned some human sleight of hand tricks. More importantly, Athena sent Jack, his Jack, on an errand. Which he did, and went above and beyond without any obvious signs of reward. Again, Gabriel tastes the ambient magic in the air. There is no magic forcing a bond between Athena and Jack. Jack is not magically bonded to anyone. Whatever their relationship is, it isn’t magical. He also knows that Jack is gay, so his relationship with Athena would not be romantic. Relief floods Gabriel, he still has a chance at making Jack his! What serves as his heart, starts bumping wildly.

 

“Fire honey! Jack, you’re forgiven.” Athena takes both pots from Jack, her lips curving into a smile before she kisses him on the lips lightly. Her gaze quickly darting over to look at the Pumpkin King, then focusing back on Jack giving him a second quick kiss.

 

Emotions boil in Gabriel’s gut at the sight of Athena kissing  _ his _ Jack. He has to get Jack out of this forest, and back by his side. Centuries of self control enable him to appear as calm as his inner emotions are not. After centuries of looking, and many more years thinking the love of his life dead, he finds Jack alive and well. That little blond shit head has proven to more wily than he anticipated. However, he’s mostly relieved to find Jack alive. There are so many questions he wants to ask but now is the time to play the part of the Pumpkin King. Jack doesn’t recognize him, Gabriel can tell. That gives him an edge, and he’ll need every advantage he can get to bring Jack under his control. Because the only way Jack is not bond to anyone is because he wants to be this way. It’ll be an uphill battle to bring Jack under his command.

 

“If I may interrupt,” Gabriel claps his hands loudly a couple times to draw everyone’s attention to him. “I believe there is something I can offer for the apple.” While he doesn’t know anything about the needs of a Dryad, he does know how to make offers to a vampire. Not to mention he knows Jack, and he knows that he interrupted Jack’s hunt earlier tonight. That immortal he scared off the mountain pass was Jack. The taste of magic that is unique to Jack, even when altered by Blood Magic is all around him. He shouldn’t recognized Jack’s magic earlier, but now it doesn’t matter. Currently he needs to play the politics game, and win. Swiftly one of his gloved hands goes up and out in a dramatic fashion, indicating they should let him continue his offer. Both Athena and Jack have their mouths open, like they’re going to object. He won’t let them get in a word until he’s made his offer.

 

“It’s dangerous for a lone vampire to hunt for a meal. I can easily provide a meal, and a safe place for Jack to eat. Wouldn’t it be a relief for the protector of your forest to be able safely eat? No need to worry if he’ll survive the night while just looking for dinner.” Gabriel fights to keep the smug tone out of his voice at the rising interest in both Athena and Jack.

 

Silence again fills the meadow. The weight of countless eyes is on the Pumpkin King. Careful not to to seem overly eager, Gabriel waits for Jack to say yes. Athena and Jack look at each other, not a word exchanged between them. However, somehow they’re having a conversation that he can’t hear. Tingles of magic go down his spine as he watches the quiet exchange between vampire and dryad. Such exchanges are possible between King and slave, yet there is no such bond that he can detect between Jack and Athena. More questions to be answered at a later date.

 

“It’s dangerous for Athena to make such an apple right before winter. Dryad’s are at risk during the cold winter months. It takes a lot of her magic to keep her soul sealed safely away from the freezing weather. If she makes your apple, that’s less magic for her to use for her own safety.” Jack’s voice is serious, his red eyes glaring at him. “Yet, you do make a good point, and your measly offer tempting. However, you must offer more for it to be worth one of Athena’s magical apples. There will be exactly thirteen seeds within the apple. You will provide thirteen meals. All male, over the age of eighteen yet younger than twenty-five, untouched virgins. The flesh of such a magical apple can be used in a multiple of ways, and your timing terrible. All of my demands are reasonable. You will ensure me safe passage to and from meals. I will not risk ambush from any source to get to my dinner. No trickery. I know your kind, Pumpkin King. Always looking to enslave a free inhuman just for the sake of gaining more power. You will promise to not trick me at all for any reason. That is the price you must pay.” At that last sentence, Jack’s voice grows in volume, and his eyes flash a challenge.

 

“Agreed.” Gabriel’s reply is instant. Oh, Jack will be his slave. There will be no trickery involved, Jack will join agree to his slave willingly. Where is the fun in tricking the immortal you love? Jack will hate him if Gabriel forces him into submitting, and he wants Jack to be happy by his side. He just needs to convince Jack that being his slave will bring them both happiness. Power is something Gabriel has in plenty. What he desires is Jack by his side, as his lover and partner once more. He’s more than willing to play this out slowly to reach that goal. “The full moon is in four days. I shall have one of my men meet you at the Westerly Bridge to escort you to my Castle.”

 

Athena hands the two pots back to Jack. One of her hands, almost the same color as her mahogany hair, pulls an acorn out of the ground. Dirt falls of it, then a golden mist, glowing brighter with every second swarms the acorn. Swiftly it grows in shape and size, the form of an apple easily recognizable. The end result is a perfect red apple. Athena hands it to Jack, her body swaying a bit, exhaustion evident. With his free hand, Jack provides Athena with support, keeping her form upright. Gabriel holds back a possessive growl at how close his Jack is to Athena. The Pumpkin King would have no reason so show such jealousy. His goal of getting Jack to be his, rides on his acting like he doesn’t know Jack. With a smirk, Jack carelessly tosses the apple in his direction. The Pumpkin KIng catches it, a growl of annoyance escaping him. In all these centuries, Jack still hasn’t stopped being an asshole. Fuck, it's good to see his lover hasn’t changed after all this! With another respectful bow to Athena, but not giving a bow directed at Jack - a deliberate snub, Gabriel takes his leave.

 

Not even ten feet into the forest Gabriel rethinks his choice to not bow respectfully to Jack. If what he knew of Jack was correct, and it has been nearly a millennium is still correct, snubbing Jack was the best way to get under his skin. Gabriel wanted Jack focusing a lot of thought, even if negative, on the Pumpkin King. His plan to get Jack back includes his old lover always thinking of him. Not that Jack knows that Pumpkin King is Gabriel Reyes. That is a name he hasn’t answered to in over seven centuries! However, Jack is actively attacking his counter spell shield. There’s a constant press of a magic, needle sharp that pops his protections. That allows the already in place curses to get at him. It was a grave miscalculation to not ask for safe passage as well as the apple. Not only that, Jack is obviously peeved at him, and ensuring the curses get through his shielding. 

 

By the time Gabriel has cleared the forest, his outfit in is tatters. There are questionable stains all over it. Not a single piece of fabric, or other materials is salvageable. The cost of getting to Athena, coupled with pissing off Jack, is roughly two thousand gold rounds. That is more than a skilled tradesmen makes in a year. Part of it is his pride. He assumed he could just waltz in and out without any troubles. Jack is incredibly powerful and his atypical uses of Blood Magic aren’t easily counterable. None of the methods he knew worked for long. What serves as his heart pumps in excitement. It’s been years since he’s had such an intriguing challenge.

 

Shade is waiting for him just at the very edges of the where the curses take effect. Gabriel has to quickly hide the apple from Shade, who looks at it with keen interest. Ears perked forward, his Hell Horse checks over Gabriel. Once his horse is done inspecting him, nose putting against his chest, he swears the horse is laughing at the state of his clothes.

 

“Pesky animal. Abandoning your master to traverse that nightmarish forest on foot. Clever horse, knowing to not go inside. Loyal beast, waiting for me to come back.” Gabriel talks to Shade, hands running along the muscular sides. It’s doubtful anything happened to Shade. His horse is a magical creature, and battle trained. Still, the world isn’t a safe place - he’ll check for any harm before mounting. After thoroughly inspecting Shade head to tail, and finding no injuries, does Gabriel finally prepare to mount. Pleased that Shade remained safe, and unharmed, Gabriel starts them on the path home.

 

The landscape, which is mostly farmlands between his realms and the start of the forest, go by in a blur. His mind is racing with various ways to woo Jack. Considering their rocky parting, he’ll have to not let Jack know who he is. For all he knows, Jack still hasn’t forgiven him for becoming a King. Afterall, it was his desire to become a King that caused their fighting. Since he became the very thing Jack detested, best start their relationship over. He’ll have an easier time wooing Jack if there are preexisting hurdles. Now, he gets to court Jack as if nothing had gone wrong, while keeping his identity a secret. That adds more to the challenge, a thought that gives him a thrill. Perhaps Mercy was right about him needing someone, or something, to give him drive. He hasn’t felt this alive in centuries! A wild laugh escapes him, his magic causing it to echo loudly. As if knowing his Master is wild with future plans, Shade tears down the road at an insane speed, happy to be free to run. Barely in time, Gabriel reigns in Shade at the small gate. 

 

Just inside the gate, looking around idly is Mercy. A knowing grin flashes quickly, before being replaced by a smug look at the sight of his ruined clothes. Damn it, he’d hoped to have time to change before handing her the apple. At the look she gives him, which screams ‘I told you so’, brings suddenly clarity. Mercy knew Jack was in the forest. That the very cost of his heart’s desire would be fulfilled the moment he found out his Jack was alive. The magical fire glowing from his pumpkin head flashes brightly. Smoke actually rises off his body in angry wisps at being made to look like a fool. Twice in one evening he’s been outplayed. His pride stings a bit as she takes the apple from his hand. Then she has the gall to turn around, and carelessly offer that that insanely expensive piece of fruit to Shade! Traitorous beast actually moves forward eagerly, ignoring his owners command to stand still, to eat the apple.  

 

“What did we learn tonight?” Mercy has the gall to ask, smug grin moving from her lips to her eyes.

 

“That I need better intel on my neighbor's.” Gabriel is not going to give her the satisfaction of admitting how much he missed Jack, and was glad to know he was alive. He regrets nothing, not even the cost of a favorite outfit getting ruined. Just the knowledge that Jack is alive, and well, and right within his grasp makes the world seem so much brighter.

 

“You needed something to keep your mind active, Pumpkin King. At your age, if you don’t find ways to stay engaged you risk falling into eternal slumber. It’s rather amazing Jack hasn’t fallen into it already. You’ll be good for each other.” Mercy then gives him a respectful bow before heading towards her rooms in the Castle.

 

“How long have you known?” Gabriel is seething at her brazen acts to interfere with his love life, even if it is good for him.

 

“Oh, a while now. It was actually alarming you hadn’t noticed. You’ve been slipping. Try not to let Jack slip through your fingers this time.” Mercy waves away his smoke swirling around her like peeved wasps, and turns her back to him once more. Without fear she walks away from him, one of the few who doesn’t fear him at all. Admittedly, she has earned the right to treat him as such. She’s almost as old of a friend as Jack. She’s not a slave, but still a part of his court. Their relationship is an interesting one, and he’s glad she’s a part of his life. There aren’t many who aren’t afraid to call him on his mistakes. Gabriel keeps her around not as a slave for that reason. It was something they talked about extensively as he was working on the image of the Pumpkin King. 

 

Shade is Gabriel’s sole responsibility, one of the few jobs he never delegates. Only a human vet, carefully selected, handles Shade; and only when Shade has an issue. The one time he did allow someone else to handle his Hell Horse, it resulted in a dead Hell Horse and him nearly losing his title as King. Never again did he let anyone, human or inhuman, work with his personal riding animal without him right there. Most of Shade’s needs he can handle himself, and does so gladly. Rarely, he needs the aide of a vet, and every time he’s been by Shade’s side the entire time. He’s learned a lot in the centuries, and he hopes it’s enough knowledge to work around whatever problems Jack had with him being King. Eventually he’ll work Jack into his Court, as his slave. There will be conversations about this, and a formal contract. Gabriel has learned by watching his peers, that forcing a bond on someone is inferior method of keeping slaves. Mutual agreement to the arrangement leads to a stronger bond, and more power on the part of the King. Jack will be his, and he has a special position in mind. Not once has he filled the position of royal consort. That has always been Jack’s position, and now that he’s found Jack, it can be filled. Eventually, of course. Jack is stubborn, and convincing him to give up his freedom won’t be easy.

 

There is preparation to do for Jack’s arrival. He made a very specific request for meals, and Gabriel can’t use his own human subjects. All humans used as food must be imported from other areas. Most of the humans used as food stock are supplies from criminals that wander in from other towns. Sadly, Jack made a very specific request. He’ll check the food stock cells in his own prisons. It’s doubtful that he has what Jack demanded on hand. There are ways to acquire humans as food, it’s just a hassle to work with Talon. A particularly nasty group of humans backed by immortals that kidnap their own to barter with inhumans for favors. Not a pleasant bunch, but he has a contact. One of their high ranking inhuman leaders, known as Widowmaker, has a past with him. Ages ago he knew her as  Amélie Lacroix a lovely human, then Talon captured her. Later she reemerged as Widowmaker, no longer human, transformed into a new sort of inhuman based on a spider. They’re on friendly terms, but he doesn’t trust her at all. Not after she killed her husband. That was he was still human himself. He’ll need to get in contact with her to meet Jack’s demands.

 

When was the last he was forced to work with Widowmaker? So long he can’t remember the exact date. Honestly, that’s a good thing in his opinion! Talon’s King is unknown, and Gabriel loathes dealing with such a risky mysterious variable. Nigh impossible to set up proper protection against an enemy that he has no information about. The sooner he gets Jack in his court the better. There’s a real risk Talon might target Jack. It’ll be a real trick to keep his wayward lover a secret from Talon while he’s visiting his Castle to feed. However, he is the Pumpkin King, he’s very good at overcoming challenges, and Jack is the treat at the end. There is no option but complete victory.


	3. Nuevo Muerte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is not impressed with the Pumpkin King, but he is mad at his treatment of Athena. Jack almost broke his gift to Athena rushing to her side in time!  
> Meanwhile, once Gabriel gets Jack into his Castle, things don't go as planned. Why can't Jack play the rules?!  
> Jesse, meanwhile, is pelted with bad puns from Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three is a rough draft, I'll post a shinier version later!

Jack is not happy at all by the progress the Pumpkin King is making towards Athena. All of his curses aren’t meant to stand up against someone with the sheer amount of power the Pumpkin King has. He taps into the network of magic attached to the cairns, and winces at what he finds. Despite his best efforts to make the spells unable to be easily countered, nothing about his unwanted guest is easy! Sneaky bastard has a shield in place that refreshes at the same interval he timed the curses to trigger! Fangs bared, he runs through the forest trying to reach Athena before she’s seriously injured. Not matter the reason, the Pumpkin King’s visit is bad news. Thankfully his rapid passage through the forest is going smoothly.

 

Smaller magical beings will often cause trouble while he’s traveling. Nothing serious, just inconveniently placed branches to snag on his clothing, or sudden root growth to trip him. Their pranks have always been a mild nuisance, something he tolerates with poise and grace. If anything, things are going unusually well for his need to travel quickly. His path is perfectly clear, which isn’t normal, even without any trickery. Jack takes a mental note, once his sent his neighbor back to his own lands, to personally thank who made his journey so smooth. The two jars of honey he gathered rest in a bag of holding. If his suddenly need for speed causes them to break, spilling their gooey contents all over the inside of his magical bag, he’ll really make this Pumpkin King pay! He arrives at the base of Athena’s trunk just as the Pumpkin King makes his grant appearance.

 

A small quirk of his lips is barely visible in the dark night as he watches the Pumpkin King stumbles into the large forest clearing. Something about the undignified stumble, followed by wild arm waving for balance seems familiar. He’s seen this happen before, but he can’t remember exactly who he’s seen botch such an entrance before. If he counts his human age, he’s been alive for over a thousand years. In that time, he’s witnessed thousands of bumbled entrances. He rates it a grudging 6/10, and he only rates it this high on the long list of such events because of who stumbled. The gnome who causes this spectacle materializes out of the darkness next to Jack, silently sniggering. Jack holds out one hand at the gnomes level for a high five. There are over three thousand gnomes living in the forest, Jack hasn’t bothered to learn too many names yet. For a brief second, he regrets not being able to thank the gnome by name. Instead, after he feels the hard slap of a small, clammy hand he turns his attention back to Athena and the Pumpkin King.      

 

“What do you want Pumpkin King?” Athena’s voice is tired sounding, and Jack is not happy that she chose to form an avatar to interact with their guest. 

 

This close to winter, Athena needs to conserving as much magic as she can to keep her soul safe. Instead, because of their all so important visitor, she has chosen to make an actual form for the Pumpkin King to talk too. He’s lived within Athena’s branches for long so long he’s gotten a good feel for her magic. Even though he’s not touching her, he can feel the strain this form is causing on her magical reserve.  

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Athena.” The Pumpkin King says, with some bogus gesture. Jack is not impressed.

 

“I’m busy. I don’t want to play your dumb games. What do you want?” Athena’s tone is blunt, the effort to form functioning vocal cords from magic, earth, and will causing her temper to be short. 

 

“Ah…” As the Pumpkin King is left speechless, Jack mentally gives Athena tally mark in who is winning the verbal battle. At the Kings next words, Jack’s hands ball into tight fists. “I need an apple. One you create with magic.” Sharp nails dig into his flesh, causing a well of sluggish blood to flow.

 

“No. Now be gone.” Athena is already dissolving at the proper answer to such a dumb request, but Jack is watching the Pumpkin King intently.  _ How does he handle being told no? _

 

“No! Wait! I need an apple! Surely there is something I can give you!” The Pumpkin King sounds like a spoiled child, and Jack is already testing the magic radiating off the Pumpkin King in hot, thick waves. There is so much of it, he burns the tip of tongue tasting the magic. 

 

Jack gets a feel for the Pumpkin King’s magic. It’s familiar, in a way he can’t place. While he was human, Jack enjoyed listening to music. Once, right before he was changed, he heard a song on the radio. He hadn’t heard the song since he was little kid, but he was familiar on how it sounded despite not remembering any lyrics. He’ll focus on the nagging feeling of familiarity to this King’s magic at a later time. Jack is old, and has traveled a lot. He’s not certain how old his opponent is, however, he’s been around for a long time. It’s almost certain he’s crossed paths with the Pumpkin King’s magic before, so it’s not surprising it feels and tastes like magic he recognizes.  

 

“There is nothing that one of your kind can offer me, that is worth what you so carelessly demand. Now go away!” Athena’s actually screaming, something Jack has yet to witness. He’s almost impressed by the Pumpkin King’s ability to piss off his friend.

 

Jack has heard enough to determine that the Pumpkin King won’t be leaving without someone forcing him to go. As his blood starts to flow down his palm, he uncurls hand to keep it from dripping onto the ground. Blood is not good for Athena, and he gave his word he wouldn’t get any on her roots. Eyes glow red as he focuses on the blood on his palm, drawing power from it. Once he’s focused on the blood, power pulsing in his veins, Jack turns his gaze to the intruder. While no one is looking at him, he moves closer, and leans against Athena’s massive trunk. Not the best looking spell, he uses magic to grab an invisible hold on that ridiculous excuse for a head. If Gabriel were still alive, Jack is certain his former lover would mock the Pumpkin King for such a foolish use of a vegetable! There is protection spells around the head of course, but they’re all passive. As the Pumpkin King realizes that he is under attack, Jack already ties his blood magic into the magical fist gripping the carved pumpkin. Now his fist is completely wrapped around that orange squash, and Jack balls his hand. An audible pop is heard, and pumpkin bits explode outwards. There is glorious silence as everyone watching witnesses his successful attack.   

 

“JACK MORRISON! YOU ARROGANT PESTILENCE! You can’t just explode someone’s head like that!” Athena’s scream breaks the silence, and Jack decides to play innocent for the sake of the audience. Any in depth discussion with Athena over his actions will happen in private.

 

“But I just did. It was frightfully easily to.” Jack drawls lazily, while watching the Pumpkin King from the corner of his eyes. And, this isn’t technically lie. It had been easy to do, but only because the Pumpkin KIng was caught flat footed. This is just Jack planting the seeds that will hopefully cause the Pumpkin King grief later. Nothing like someone getting an effortless looking attack against an all powerful King to cause upstarts to cause trouble!

 

“Jack…” Athena growls at Jack, her arms shaking by her side. 

 

Jack offers a real smile, and he wonders how Athena will play out this game. They’ve discussed such situations before in which Jack attacks an invading King. There are several predetermined conversations they’ve practiced for the sake of appearances. Of course there is room for the script to be ad-libbed a little based on who is attacking them. Thankfully, he doesn’t think he needs to improvise here. Athena had him practice at least a dozen different scripts on how to they get along in front of the Pumpkin King. 

 

“What?” Jack makes a sad sound, one of his hands going over his chest, and flutters his eye slashes at Athena. He justs loves this chance to act like a victim. If it weren’t for the possible trouble caused by the Pumpkin King, Jack is tempted to thank him for making his normally dull life more lively!

 

“Oh! Are you mad because I damaged a pumpkin? You never warned me against hurting a vegetable. I suppose since you’re a tree, my killing a veggie would be upsetting.” Jack keeps his tone teasing, and he uses the last bit of blood on his palm to activate a charm spell. Everyone watching will love this, even if they don’t want to! 

 

“You’re an asshole Jack.” Athena’s tone holds no heat, and Jack worries that she’s growing tired. Best cut this short, if possible!

“Isn’t that why you love and adore me?” Jack smiles, fangs politely kept from showing. This is a signal that Jack is willing to cut his part of the performance short. The two of them have a massive collection of nonverbal cues for interacting with each other in front of an important audience. Still, he better give her the honey to help make their act seem more palatable to the forest dwellers watching with worried eyes. There are no less than five hundred sets of eyes on Jack, Athena, and the Pumpkin King according to a passive spell he has in place on his outfit.  

 

“Look what I brought you! Honey just like you asked me and…” with an elaborate motion of his hand, Jack pulls out a second pot filled with burnt sienna colored fluid seeming from thin air, from just behind Athena’s head. Jack studied under a human magician for a couple years to help stay low from hunters. Such tricks have proven surprisingly useful in tricking others that he knows more magic than his usual bag of tricks. 

 

“Fire honey! Jack, you’re forgiven.” Athena takes both pots from Jack, her lips curving into a real smile. As her lips brush against him, she’s telling him that if there is something he wants from the Pumpkin King, he’s free to make demands. Her generosity touches him deeply. She must be worried about his lack of dinner to risk making an apple to see to his needs. 

 

“If I may interrupt,” The Pumpkin King interrupts with a loud clapping. Jack is really not impressed with this King at all. “I believe there is something I can offer for the apple.” 

Jack is curious what the Pumpkin King thinks Athena may need!  _ What does he think he can offer Athena? He came into here with no idea how things work here!  _

 

“It’s dangerous for a lone vampire to hunt for a meal. I can easily provide a meal, and a safe place for Jack to eat. Wouldn’t it be a relief for the protector of your forest to be able safely eat? No need to worry if he’ll survive the night while just looking for dinner.” The Pumpkin King doesn’t sound smug, but somehow Jack just knows the bastard is smug at his offer. 

 

Jack’s red eyes look into Athena’s brown ones. This is exactly what he needs, and more than once he’s voiced a desire for such a deal with a King. Athena hates not being able to keep an eye on him while she slumbers, Jack knows that Athena already approves of the deal by the feeling of her magic already starting to gather for making an apple. However, he’s going to add some strict conditions to keep himself safe!

 

“It’s dangerous for Athena to make such an apple right before winter. Dryad’s are at risk during the cold winter months. It takes a lot of her magic to keep her soul sealed safely away from the freezing weather. If she makes your apple, that’s less magic for her to use for her own safety.” Jack’s voice is serious, his red eyes glaring at his guest. This Pumpkin King needs to know just what he asked for, and that Jack’s demands are beyond reasonable for the cost. “Yet, you do make a good point, and your measly offer tempting. However, you must offer more for it to be worth one of Athena’s magical apples. There will be exactly thirteen seeds within the apple. You will provide thirteen meals. All male, over the age of eighteen yet younger than twenty-five, untouched virgins. The flesh of such a magical apple can be used in a multiple of ways, and your timing terrible. All of my demands are reasonable. You will ensure me safe passage to and from meals. I will not risk ambush from any source to get to my dinner. No trickery. I know your kind, Pumpkin King. Always looking to enslave a free inhuman just for the sake of gaining more power. You will promise to not trick me at all for any reason. That is the price you must pay.” Jack’s eyes flash a challenge, already knowing the answer. 

 

“Agreed.” The Pumpkin King doesn’t hesitate to agree, much to Jack’s relief. This is exaclty what he’s been needing to happen. “The full moon is in four days. I shall have one of my men meet you at the Westerly Bridge to escort you to my Castle.” 

 

Jack quickly takes the pots of honey, so Athena can wrap the apple spell. Those pots he stores back in his bag of holding. It’s not really a bottomless bag like most traditional bags of holding. Instead, Jack just has hundreds of storage units hidden in safe places. His bag has a portal spell, so all he has to do to set the portal to open up so the items go into a storage unit far from here. The huge downside is that the portal is linked by a powerful magic, and if it’s jostled too much, the last storage unit is also jostled. It would be more efficient if he had just bought a real bag of holding. Sadly, the ones with organizable pockets within the pocket dimension are well beyond his financial means. Jack’s thoughts focus back on Athena as she starts to go limp. Athena finishes the apple, which he takes with one free hand, the other helping support her avatar. Again, this is all an act to make Athena seem weaker than she really is. At this point, her avatar could easily crush his body into pulp if she wanted. With a smirk, he tosses the apple at the Pumpkin King to test his reflexes. Of course the King catches it, but Jack can tell he’s not happy about it. This pleases Jack. Then the Pumpkin King bows deeply to Athena, before heading out.  _ He didn’t bow to me! That asshole! I’ll show him to never snub me like that again!  _

 

Thoughts of making that pompous King suffer for his blatant disrespect consume Jack. Athena stops leaning on him, and promptly dissolves her avatar back into dirt. Already the eyes his spell counts on him start to decrease. Within seconds Jack is up in his part of Athena’s trunk, his hands balled into fists. One hand pulls out a polished mirror, and Jack stares at it. His magic connects to mirror, but he carefully keeps this spell only powered with his own magic, not fueled by blood magic at all. He already broke his word once tonight, he’ll be ill for the next couple days. Even if Athena forgives him for casting blood magic near her for a good reason, Jack knows that he still broke his word. The very Forces that provide magic will make him suffer for it. From experience, he knows he’ll feel like he has a bad case of the mortal flu for two, maybe three days. So, for this part of his revenge, he powers for his vampiric magic. Once he’s connected to the mirror, he uses it to find the cairn holding the master spell on all the curses. After he’s got direct eyesight on it, he calls to it. With malicious glee, he directs the curses manually causing as much damage to the Pumpkin King’s overpriced outfit. If he has his way, nothing on that King’s body will be salvageable!  

  
  
  
  
  


  * Four Days Later -



Fall is a glorious time of year, it gets dark so delightfully early without being that chilling cold of winter. Jack hums a bit as he strides towards the bridge. The night is still young, the full moon not even visible. A faint glow is growing on the peaks, signaling its rise. This would be the Harvest Moon, if Jack bothered to follow human methods of keeping time. Silhouetted under a lamp illuminating the bridge is his escort. Eyebrows rise high at the slave the Pumpkin King assigned to him. It’s been a long while since Jack has encountered a Centaur, but even longer since he’s seen a cowboy.  _ A cowboy centaur, that’s a first!  _

 

“You take the whole cowboy thing to the next level.” Jack greets with a lazy tone, both fangs showing in his smile. No need to bother with introducing him, the Pumpkin King should have briefed his slave on who he is. “You must get a lot of laughs as cowboy, since you’re always horsing around.” Jack can’t help but include a bad joke.

 

“I don’t know if I should be impressed you know what a cowboy is, or insulted by your tone mister.” The centaur huffs, front legs dancing in place a bit as Jack gets uncomfortably close to do an inspection.  

 

“You should already be impressed.” Jack’s smile widens showing more teeth as it spreads into a smirk. “So I suggest you go with insulted. Easier for your brain to process.” Before his guide decides to retaliate for Jack getting too close for comfort, he nimbly jumps out of kicking range. Best not to test his luck, there are small loopholes that may cause the cowboy centaur to cause him some bodily harm.

 

“You’re a real asshole. A pain in my behind, since I can’t hurt you. Boss’s orders were real clear on that.” The centaur’s hands clench into fists, but slowly unclench before he makes a gesture for Jack to follow.

 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t fuck animals. I don’t see the appeal in it. I do know of some very pretty does in the forest, if you’re that desperate.” Jack is a bit surprised when his guide actually tries to punch him. A large fist flies at his face, and if it weren’t for his super fast reflexes, he would have a broken nose.

 

“Shit. I need a raise. Boss warned me ‘bout you, but I didn’t take him serious. I apologize for my attempting to do some last minute dental surgery to shut you up.” The centaur looks to be flushed, but Jack can’t really tell under the beard. Mentally reviewing the punch, the centaur is correct. Jack wouldn’t have just a broken nose, he’d have lost teeth too. He likes this centaur, he’s got fire in him!

 

“The Pumpkin King gave you orders not to hurt me, yet you still reacted to my insults. You’ve got more free will than I anticipated.” Jack muses on this, revising some of his earlier opinions on the Pumpkin King. That means, if the centaur had landed his punch, he’d be punished for causing Jack harm. It’s not a fun experience to replace feeding fangs. Which would be a pity, any centaur who dresses up like a cowboy is too amusing to die for disobeying orders. “I apologize. I will temper my insults in the future. What’s your name?” Jack’s follow smile is more friendly, he keeps his fangs in check this time.

 

“Name’s McCree,” the centaur informed him, as his hand reaches up to tip his hat in acknowledgement. “I don’t know why you’re dealing with the boss if you think he’s that kind of low-down hombre. The boss is great. All his slaves have free will if they want it. There’s a few that don’t. But that’s something they want, boss never just takes it away without their say-so. Your apology is accepted if you don’t tell anyone.”

 

“Interesting. I honestly don’t know much about the Pumpkin King. I tend to err on the side of all King’s are of the ‘low-down hombre’ variety. Very well McCree, I shall not inform anyone of your transgression. I find you far to amusing to get punished for such a simple thing as reacting to my words. It would sadden me far too much.” Jack’s smile widens, and he knows that McCree will experience something unpleasant for breaking his word. That’s just how the the Forces that will things work; if an immortal breaks their word they suffer in some real way for it. However, the punishment dished out by the King is a different matter, one Jack can help mitigate by not speaking up.

 

“Yer an odd one. I’ve never met a vampire like you before.” McCree does sound interested, but not impressed. His human shoulders shrug, and his tail smacks Jack in the back as if to say hurry up hombre.

 

“You’re not likely too. Most vampires fall into a deep slumber by my age. Although, I’ve always been different.” Jack flashes a grin, showing far too many teeth. The force of that tail stung, and the centaurs intention is clear, hurry it up. There’s an air of honesty around McCree that Jack finds amusing. He hasn’t had the joy of interacting with someone like McCree in...nearly five hundred years now? Yes, he most certainly will temper his language to avoid any future altercations with Jesse McCree. Such entertainment is far too rare to risk losing. “Since you’re both a cowboy, and a horse...do you suffer from bronc-itis when you get ill?” Jack can’t help but throw another pun at his guide. 

 

“I’m gonna ask, but how old are you stranger? You’re a solo right? So you can’t be that old. But, man that lame pun is old. Like, really old.” McCree’s tail swishes idly in the moonlight as he leads Jack through the city. 

 

Nuevo Muerte is styled similar to the cities found in mountainous regions of ancient Spain. Most of the outer buildings are built with native stone cut from the mountain. Jack wonders if the roof material is made from local clay that forms the red, yellow or orange pantiles. Most of the decorations are skeleton themed. Although he doesn’t want to be, Jack is impressed by the consist theme in a city this size. Any carved structure such as lamp posts, fences, or pillars look like bones. Every single statue is without a head. It seems the Pumpkin King is serious about maintaining his reputation as a Headless Hunter. All of the humans Jack sees, and there several still out at this hour, seem unafraid of him or McCree. If they aren’t scared at the sight of him, it would imply they’re well protected and never needed to be wary. Jack has heard of inhuman Kings protecting human subjects, but he’s never been in such a Kingdom before.  _ This Pumpkin King doesn’t operate like most Kings I’ve had the displeasure of working with. _

 

“Oh? My age. Let’s see...I turn one thousand in two years a couple months from now. And, yes, I am a solo.” Jack’s eyes glow red for a brief seconds giving the tiniest glimpse of his deeper power to back his age, and his teeth gleam white in the dimly lit streets. He actually lets out a real laugh as McCree stumbles in shock at his age, his body suddenly lurching forward dangerously as his front hooves trip over a small curb. One hand reaches out to keep McCree from falling, supporting his entire weight for a few seconds. 

 

“How’d you manage that? Most solo’s don’t make it past their first century before...well, you know.” McCree makes a finger gun, mimes shooting something, then dramatically drops his head as if dead. “Becoming a slave to a King is vital to survival. How’d you survive this long?”

 

Then McCree just stares at Jack once his head pulls upright, eyes wide with actual awe and respect. Actual respect not coupled with fear is rare. Tingles of actual joy at being treated as such go down Jack’s spine. Absolutely certain Mccree is steady on his feet, Jack pulls back the hand keeping his guide from falling. One of McCree’s hands goes to his hat, repositioning it better on his head to prevent it from falling off. His tail swishes side to side, and Jack wonders if a centaur’s tail is anything like a dog’s in it mirroring emotions.

 

“That is a long story. Perhaps someday I will share of the more amusing pieces with you.” Jack changes his smile to be a little less toothy, and more genuinely friendly. He means it too, someday he might just tell McCree of his more socially acceptable stories.

 

It feels good to talk with another inhuman that isn’t a denizen of the forest. Smaller magical creatures, the ones who were never human, are terrible conversationalists for lengthy periods of time. They merely repeat three to four lines of actual conversation, before degrading into gibberish. Often they parrot his words instead of actually trying to talk back. Dryads are an exception, but Jack finds their stories rather dull. All they talk about for the most part, including his beloved Athena, is vegetation. Jack is again tempted to join up with a King, if only for decent company. Before Jack can ask McCree another question they arrive at the doors of Castle Sombra. If the gossip Jack has gathered is correct, the Castle is named after a former pupil of the Pumpkin King.

 

“Well, this is where I leave yah. Stay outta trouble y’hear? The boss won’t like it if something happens to your head. But this is the end of my part of the tour.” McCree gives Jack a smile, before starting to back away from the massive, black doors. 

 

“Take care McCree. I shall my best to stay out of trouble.” Jack means it, he’ll be a good boy the entire time. One pale hand rises up briefly in a farewell wave, which McCree returns.

 

Magic causes the doors to dramatically open outwards. With a curious flick of his tongue, Jack tastes the magic. There is a lot of enchantments on those wooden doors. The material looks to be Ironwood, but Jack hasn’t seen this much Ironwood in person. A hand reaches out to the touch the smooth black wood, impressed to find it’s actual Ironwood. That was an expensive import! The Pumpkin King is powerful as well as rich. Ironwood trees only grow in the deep North, far into the lands controlled solely by humans. Something about the soil in that part of the world causes the trees naturally gather metallic properties. Ironwood is thick, heavy, easy to enchant, even easier to keep enchanted. These doors would hold out against an actual Dragon!

 

“Admiring my home already?” The Pumpkin King asks, voice sounding amused, with no small hint of pride. 

 

Just inside the entranceway is the Pumpkin King. Jack’s red eyes study his host, taking in every small detail. The Pumpkin King is dressed in thick black velvets, layered with red silks. On top of shirt appears to be a black dragonscale leather vest. What is very possibly real gold is used at the thread forms a pattern on the edges of the sleeves. Pants, some sort of dyed black leather, are held up by a thick black belt. Boots, the kind used by gravekeeper's finish up the outfit. The entire thing probably costs more than all the gold Jack currently owns. Glad that he wore his most expensive outfit, the red leather he uses for spellwork, Jack mentally curses his very outdated wardrobe. He hasn’t gone clothes shopping in over two centuries. Nothing he owns is in fashion, or fancy. Mostly he wears what he likes the looks of, and maintains them with magic.  

 

“No.” Jack tells the lie with a smile, his red eyes gleaming in the dimly light entranceway.  

 

“Pity. Your meal is ready. It would please me if we spent some time conversing before you ate.” The Pumpkin King’s head tilts a bit to the side, as if thinking about something.

 

“No.” Jack smiles, both fangs out in a challenging manner. He isn’t in a rush to eat, nor would he mind actually talking with the Pumpkin King. For reasons Jack isn’t certain of, he feels like being difficult. Normally he wouldn’t mind the chance to talk with another power inhuman in a safe setting. He just feels like being a difficult asshole to this King, despite having no real reason too. Something for Jack to reflect on later. 

 

“You don’t play the rulebook do you?” The Pumpkin King says, both hands dropping to hang limp by his sides. The glow inside the pumpkin serving as a head grows dimmer. 

 

Jack is curious if his refusal to do the polite small talk actually distressed the Pumpkin King, or if this is an elaborate act. McCree seemed to be of the mindset that his King is an honest sort. However, Jack can’t see how his declining the usual polite chatter would cause this King unhappiness? The kind of chatter the Pumpkin King tried to entice him into is basic, nothing of real informational value would be exchanged. So, he can’t be upset at the lack of learning something new?  _ What’s his angle in all of this?  _

 

“Oh, I play the by rules. I just play by the mandatory rules forced upon me by the Laws of Magic. All the boring rules attached to politics, etiquette, and so forth bore me. So I don’t bother. I wish to see my meal now.” Jack flashes a single fang as he issues his demand, knowing that he’s taking a risk here. It’s rarely a good idea to challenge someone who controls so much raw power.

  
  
  
  


“You’re a real pain in the ass. Can’t you just play the by rules like you’re supposed to?” Gabriel mutters the reply, forcing his tone to sound annoyed. 

 

Deep inside, he’s smiling at the antipolitics sentiment. At the sight of Jack threatening his authority with that very aggressive smile, fills him with joy. If it were anyone else, human or inhuman, he’d punish them. After all, he is the Pumpkin King, he has a reputation to keep up. He wants to talk to Jack, but this reply, the show of teeth, is...so Jack. It’s a relief to know that even after all these centuries Jack is still Jack he remembers, and loves. Part of Jack’s charm is his tough asshole exterior, and more charming, sweet interior. He’s fine with having Jack not talking with him right away. After all, Jack doesn’t know who he is. Nor does he plan on Jack finding out for a long while. No, he’s fine with Jack refusing to play by the rules, even though he had hoped to just chat. After all this time thinking Jack dead, just being able to see him, to hear his voice...it fills a need he forgot he had. Experience with winning over other difficult immortals has taught him patience. The end goal is more important than short term pleasure.

 

“I’m not a pain in your ass, it’s not like I fucked you. And playing by the rules is boring. Food now.” Jack shows a second fang, his tone light and teasing despite the show of dominance.

 

“Maybe one day I can be a pain in your ass. It’s certainly a nice one, even if a bit flat.” Gabriel snaps back, deliberately needling Jack’s ego about his looks. Years ago, it was a certain thing to get Jack upset just mentioning his ass. “I will have one of my spirit’s guide you to the room containing your meal.”

 

A small glowing orb, appears next to Jack’s head, bobbing slightly. Gabriel is very pleased at being able to tease Jack so soon. Even though he won’t have the chance to engage in small talk, he’s very pleased with the progress he’s made already. Nothing like exchanging sexual comments to get under Jack’s skin. Sadly, Jack no longer flushes at such wordplay. Jack’s eyebrows did narrow at the words, and the grin curls upwards into a challenging smirk showing several teeth, not just his fangs. Not the reaction Gabriel had hoped for, but still promising. Jack turns his back to him, an obvious show of disrespect, Jack follows the glowing orb down a hallway. As if Jack would sense Gabriel’s gaze on his retreating ass, Jack flips him the bird with both hands. Gabriel is glad his head is currently an immobile pumpkin, because if his actual head was in face, it would be grinning widely.  _ Fuck, I’ve missed him!  _ Body afire with desire, he plans possible ways to snare Jack into conversation. He checks, there isn’t anyone in the entrance way.

 

Gabriel raises a single hand until it’s at eye level. Hand opening wide, he forms an orb in his palm from his smoke. There’s several spells in the room Jack’s meal is in. They will allow him to spy on Jack while he eats. Its doubtful Jack will find them all, and dismantle them. Sure enough, the moment Jack walks into the room, his eyes narrow. An actual hiss leaves those lovely lips, and Jack starts to tear apart the spells in place. A chuckle leaves him as Jack misses two spells. Still, it’s impressive that Jack found so many. _ Still paranoid as ever, I see Jack! You were paranoid while human, and kept that trait when you Changed. It’s probably one of the reasons how you survived so long solo, I suppose. _ It’s no surprise when Jack charms the young human in being calm. Jack asks the young man a single question, seems to pleased with the response before he starts to unbutton his shirt?! 

 

What is surprising is when Jack starts to strip off his clothes. As Jack’s hands start to stroke the cock of the young male, Gabriel feels jealous rage surging through him, hot and thick. Suddenly a few more of Jack’s more odd requests for his meals makes a bit more sense. He had not anticipated Jack fucking his dinner! As Jack starts to prep his own ass, Gabriel’s hand starts to curl into a fist. Jack’s pleasure filled moans can’t be heard through the spell, there is not sound at all, but he recognizes the shape his lips are making. Gabriel crushes the small globe in his hand, a loud growl escaping him.

 

Wisps of smoke start rolling off his body in increasing waves, his hands forming into tight fists. Jack, his Jack, is fucking his dinner. It hadn’t really occurred to him that Jack would be sexually active with others. He’d always been very loyal in their relationship, not once even showing any indication of liking to fuck his meal. There had been a few times over the centuries where Gabriel had needed to use sex for a powerful binding spell, but he always found it every distasteful. Why couldn’t Jack be the same? As the rage continues to build, he teleports to his private chambers. As a King, he has a suite of rooms. One of them is a dedicated entertainment room, just for meetings with important visitors. As his boots touch the rich carpet, his form solidifying, Gabriel swings a fist smashing a vase. It’s an antique, irreplaceable, worth a small fortune, but he doesn’t care! Someone is touching his Jack, and he has no way to stop it. Before the shards even hit the floor, he’s slamming his hands into some other fragile, expensive decoration. The path of destruction he leaves in the lavish room, leaving nothing undamaged, only ends when a spell he had in the room indicates that Jack is done. The polite thing to do would be to escort Jack to the exit. Yet the thought of seeing Jack after what transpired, just causes the substance in his veins to boil. Better not greet Jack like this, he’d be sorely tempted to say something he shouldn’t. A loud snap of his fingers causes a glowing orb to form next to his head.        

 

“Symmetra escort my guest to the exit.” His voice is rough, his hands shaking still. She is one of the few servants he has that won’t ask awkward questions. She’ll think them, but won’t ask which is one of her more glorious traits. An incredibly observant vampire who will plan around the events she witnesses, but will never ask questions, Symmetra is an important member of his court.

 

“As you wish, my King. Do you have any other instructions for me?” Symmetra’s voice is clear, and crisp, not a single lisp caused by her fangs. As a newly made vampire, she’s made the Change very smoothly.  

 

“Make sure my guest is in McCree’s care before he leaves the Castle.” Gabriel’s hands are slowly coming under control. Almost nothing had gone as planned tonight with Jack, so now he needs to work around the new developments. Like hell he’ll let this sort of thing stop him making Jack his! If anything, now he has an even greater reason to get Jack back as soon as possible. 

 

“I will see it done, my King.” Symmetra gives him a bow, even though he can’t see it.

 

A wave of his hand dismisses the glowing orb, it blinking a couple times before completely fading. Almost all lighting is handled by various spirits under his command, and when he needs them to, they can be used as a way to communicate with his servants within the grounds of his domain. Again he snaps his fingers, and numerous black candles, made from local beeswax, light up with a deep purple flame. Several of them float out of the things holding them in place, hovering near him to provide able lighting while he walks towards his desk. The candles aren’t the spirits, they just possess the candles to provide a body and fuel for the magical fire given off. Thankful he never needs to worry about light. Sadly, they can only possess candles made from organic, local materials. That’s a con about using the ghosts of long dead servants, they need beeswax candles, produced locally, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to do a quarter of what he needs them to do. There is an entire section on the outskirts of Nuevo Muerte dedicated to beekeeping. His hands pulls out a pen, and piece of paper is placed in front of him by invisible hands.  Then he starts to draft up various ways to get Jack into conversation, and to find the key to getting him to willingly become a slave. And, once Jack is his slave, no one but the Pumpkin King will ever touch Jack like that. Jack is his, no one else is worthy of making love to him! Now, he just needs to prove that to Jack.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to perkigothii-geekius on tumblr for suggesting Cenatur!McCree.
> 
> I also have a Tumblr! It's pretty uneventful, but you're welcome to take a peek at it.  
> [My Tumblr](http://darthumbreon.tumblr.com/)


	4. Symmetra's Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finishes his meal, and interacts with another member of the King's court - Symmetra. Things go awry very quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter proved harder to write then I first anticipated! I love Symm, but I was constantly rewriting her interactions with Jack. My beta also didn't get to chapter 3 either, so that still needs more work QAQ; Again, this is a rough draft so my readers have something to enjoy while I polish up older chapters.  
> Also added McHanzo the tags, because there will be hints of it here or there.

Jack double checks his appearance in mirror spell, to make sure his appearance is impeccable after his meal. It took some searching, but he found a spell that allows him to see his reflection. Vampires can’t use mirrors, and that seems to be problematic with almost all mirror spells. Even though the technical reason a mirror doesn’t work on vampires is because of the silver nitrate used to make them. A few pieces of cum he missed the first time on the shoulder of his jacket catch his eyes in the mirror. He uses magic to neatly flick it off his clothing and onto the floor. Not only is silver lethal to vampires, it also makes getting presentable much harder for any respectable vampire. He can understand the whole lethal substance part, but whose petty idea was it to make getting dressed in front of a mirror also nigh impossible? Why in the world most magical mirrors, that uses zero amounts of silver, don’t work on vampires is one of life’s many mysteries! If Jack ever comes face to face with the Higher Power that made that judgement call on how magic works, he’ll have a few choice words to pass on. Thankfully, some very clever Mage found a way around this. If the Mage who created the solution to his mirror problem were still alive, he would personally thank them! Thanks to that clever mortal, he can get dressed neatly and quickly without help. It amazes Jack at times how the vampires in the movies he watched as a kid always looked so perfect. Such perfection with complex attire is nigh impossible without a mirror. Those movies are a lie! 

 

While he was a young vampire, he struggled without a mirror. More than once he’d walk around with his clothing slightly askew, drawing more than one laugh at his expensive. Gabriel Reyes, his lover, always helped him. They had a routine that Gabe would look over Jack’s outfit everyday shortly after getting dressed. Without his aide, Jack’s image as a vampire suffered. It’s hard to be taken seriously if a person’s dress shirt and tie does not look impeccable. Gabi’s warm hands would gently tug his wayward clothing into place. Just as often, those warm hands could get him naked and on the bed before he could react. By the all known Gods, Jack misses Gabriel’s warm hands. It always made sex feel wonderful, the contrast in body temperatures between him and Gabe. Vampires are cold, whereas Wraiths are unusually warm. This fact always made sex very interesting in the early days. More then one day shortly after they both made the change was spent exploring the new ways they could make love. Ghosts of memories haunt Jack, his eyes closing as he thinks about those early years. Pain and loneliness dig at him like claws in his heart. They were honestly the best years of his life, and he’s lived a long time. At times, even after all these centuries, he misses having Gabi in his life. The pain of missing him still hurts like a fresh wounds at times.

 

Red eyes flick over to the dead body on the bed, cum and blood making a pool of congealing body fluids all over the sheets. Blood is already dripping onto the floor, soaking up what must be a centuries old rug. He didn’t always fuck his meals, it was something he picked up to help him cope. Jack had always been a quick eater, not really bothering to interact with his dinner. However, humans are food and they are also warm, breathing bodies to get some comfort out of. He’s always so cold, and he misses the warm touch of Gabriel. The mirror spell reflects his image, allowing Jack to see where he needs straighten his jacket. When he first slung it over his shoulders, it didn’t settle evenly. Fingers tug at the seams, his thoughts still wandering back to a certain Wraith he misses. 

 

Sometimes, he feels something almost like what he had with Gabi when he fucks a mortal male. It’s nothing like what he had with his lover, but rarely he can almost get back those special moments. Honestly, if he didn’t have to find a way to fend off the massive hole in his heart that Gabriel took with him, Jack wouldn’t be sexually active at all. Once or twice he had flings with other inhumans, but they were nothing to Gabriel. So, once they eventually got on his nerves, Jack killed them and moved on. So, he gets what he can by fucking his meals. Briefly he wonders what Gabi would think of him fucking his food. It probably wouldn’t go over well, remembering how possessive Gabriel can get. 

 

Even now, Jack Morrison loves Gabriel Reyes, and he still can’t stand the thought of sharing him. To this day, he still snarls at the thought that Gabriel is off somewhere using sex and magic to gather slaves. A long fang slips from his lips at his line of thinking, hands curling into tight balled fists. Hell, he doesn’t know what he’d do if he ever actually saw Gabriel again! It would probably end violently. Their last fight had been very heated. Jack refuses to think on what might have happened, instead he focuses on his current life, and what he needs to do to keep alive. Yet his thoughts won’t leave their line of thinking, all too happy to reflect on his greatest mistake.

  
  


His Gabi was determined to be a King and Jack knew he couldn’t change his lover’s mind, so he left without a word before he had to witness anything upsetting. Sometimes, when he looks at the mess he leaves behind after eating, he spares a few moments to reflect on it all. Everything he does, all these centuries later, boils down to a choice he made nearly a thousand years ago. How could he explain his stupid jealousy to Gabriel all those years ago? All the arguments Gabriel gave Jack why he should become a King were solid. In fact, the idea is an excellent one and Jack couldn’t really explain he was just jealous. That his entire objection was he didn’t want to share. Young, dumb and selfish, Jack refused to budge. Young was Jack frothing mad, and this fueled his shouted replies to Gabriel’s calmly presented argument. 

 

They fought like fire and ice; one burning hot with emotions, the other cool, calm and collected. It was his selfishness alone that was the problem, and Jack knew it. Always proud, Jack couldn’t admit he was wrong, just being jealous. He couldn’t deny his lover his strong desire, his dream, to become powerful. Gabriel was so passionate about this idea of gathering other inhumans under a unified leader, bond tightly with magic, as the best means to  get power. Truly an inspiring aspiration! Except, for the type of magic required to bind certain inhumans. Most inhumans can be bond with simple runes, but for some...a deeper connection is needed. Such a connection can only be made by using sex to fuel the spell. Jack knows the moment Gabriel would use sex to bond with a powerful inhuman he’d lose his temper. That would cause them to fight again. Gabriel couldn’t reach his dream without doing sex based magic, Jack couldn’t accept his lover’s dream as his own. So, he just left to spare them both the pain. By the time Jack reached this decision, he’d fought over a dozen times in the past month with Gabriel. At time Jack thought it a very good idea to part ways so they’d stop fighting. Surely, his move to give Gabriel the freedom to gather slaves was the best one! Somewhere his past lover is probably incredibly happy with countless slaves, and his own private harem. He doesn’t need Jack to make things work. At least, that’s what Jack tells his heart after he’s gotten some pleasure after fucking a meal.  

 

What he hadn’t realized was how much it hurt to be away from his lover, his partner, his best friend. As the years went on, an ache grew in his soul. The world seemed a bit duller, the colors around him not as bright without Gabriel. At times it feels like there is a void in his soul, slowly consuming his sanity. Sometimes the pain he feels is dulled slightly by fucking the humans he feeds on. For a glorious few moments he isn’t as lonely, and the hole in his soul is a little less empty. That is why he always fucks his food, because it’s proven the only way to keep the pain of loss from consuming his sanity. The other choice would be eternal rest, but Jack refuses to just give up living. He’s not done with the world, even if he is very lonely.

 

Jack refuses to find Gabriel Reyes and become his slave, because he still can’t handle the thought of sharing his lover with anyone else. Even now, he still lets out an audible growl at the thought of his lover fucking another. It doesn’t help his jealously with the knowledge that if Gabriel is still alive, he’s fucked hundreds of inhumans for power.Gabi...probably has a small side harem to help his libido. A  louder snarl escapes his lips, a single fange slipping out while his hands flex into and out of fists. He glances over to the body on the bed. Well, if he ever does have the misfortune of running into Gabriel, he’ll have ample fuel to throw at him to prove his point about fucking others! Jack grimaces, and looks away from the body. He should get going soon. However, for an odd reason he’s having a harder time not thinking about Gabriel. 

 

Another reason why any encounter he has will almostly certainly end in violence is because of his playing with his dinner before eating it. At times he is tempted to join a King for safety, but the thought of possibility of encountering Gabriel, who would be rival King is a huge deterrent. Gabriel Reyes, while human, was very possessive of Jack. He didn’t like sharing Jack as much as Jack didn’t liked sharing Gabriel. Hence, why Jack was so hurt that his lover thought it a good idea to go around collecting inhumans! It’s part of the reason why Jack still opposes the thought of gathering slaves. Several of the most powerful bonding spells require sex. There’s a huge difference between casually fucking a helpless mortal, and engaging in a powerful magical ritual. _ Knock! Knock!  _ Shoulders stiffening at the suddenly noise, Jack whirls on his feet to face the source.

 

Jack’s thoughts derail away from Gabriel, and refocus on the present moment. Again, someone raps against the wooden door twice in rapid succession. It looks like he isn’t allowed to just idle in this room indefinitely. Quickly, his eyes scan his appearance in the mirror floating just a couple feet in front of him. There is nothing wrong with his how his clothes rest against his body. Not a single speck of blood or cum is visible anywhere on his person. His right hand rises to about eye level, snapping three times loudly to dismiss the mirror. This particular spell seems to run off needless dramatics. In order to undo the magic used to create and maintain the spell, he has to snap loudly three times at eye level. If he doesn’t, the spell either doesn’t work at all next time it’s summoned, or it will not become undone at all. If it weren’t the only mirror spell he’s found that shows a vampire’s entire reflection, he’d not use it. At the sound of his snapping, the door abruptly opens.

 

In walks a young vampire, not even into her first century of being inhuman. Looks like the Pumpkin King has a guide to sure he doesn’t get lost within the castle walls. She must have assumed his snapping was to summon her inside. Such assuming young vampires are so much fun to tease! Attention fully diverted from his past, he decides to instead get to know this young vamp. Jack tastes her magic, his tongue rolling her magic against his cheek to get a feel for her magic. Instantly he’s reminded strongly of green cardamom and cassia bark. Her magic is exceptionally organized, neatly stacked together in perfect harmony. That is a shock, usually vampires don’t master their innate magical ability so neatly until they turn three hundred or so! Her attire is a revealing red and black outfit, and her red eyes quickly snap over to the mess on the bed. Lips curl back in disgust, fangs bared as she quickly steps back out the door. Jack guesses this young vamp to be not even have reached fifty yet. It’s odd to see a vampire displeased at a messy meal, so this one must very young. He lingers the room for a few more minutes to just make the other vampire wait. The younger the vampire, the more sure they are of their importance. He’s found it fairly enjoyable to crush the ego’s a newly made vampire. Not that Jack interacts with very many inhumans if he has a choice.

 

“I am to make sure you reach the front gates without incident.” Her tone is sharp, red eyes full of blatant dislike for him.       

 

“I haven’t caused any trouble yet.” Jack says with a smile, a single fang slipping out in defiance. He figures she means the mess he made of his meal.

 

“You ruined pricy sheets! They’ll need to be magically cleaned. Not to mention the cost of cleaning the carpet! How can such an ancient vampire be so disorderly? Look at the mess you made!” The young vampire says, her tone chilly. Her red eyes are so cold and sharp, if looks could kill he’d be frozen and shattered by now. Hands grip her shoulders tightly as shoulders shuddering a bit, eyes refusing to met his. She keeps a safe distance from him, exactly three feet to his left. She must think she has time to react at that distance. Her naivety about his lack of ability kill her quickly amuses Jack.

 

“Easily. I just chose not to be orderly.” Jack’s toothy smile doesn’t retract his other fang, and he chuckles at her stiffening spine and shoulders.

 

“Then you are a fool! Disorder is the enemy of inhumans! You must be very young to so foolish. However told me you were old is a liar.” The young vampire says, her accusing tone doing nothing but causing Jack to grow even more amused. 

 

“Miss, I don’t believe I got your name. It’s difficult to address you without knowing your proper title. I’m Jack. What’s your name, miss?” Jack inquires, giving her a slight nod of his head the lone fang respectfully retracting back inside his mouth. Jack always has a small soft spot for young vampires, always so full of themselves. He was like that once, young, arrogant and dumb. So he attempts to find such attitudes amusing instead of insulting.  

 

“I am Satya Vaswani. You may call me Symmetra.” Symmetra’s haughty tone only does more to amuse Jack.  

 

Jack’s mouth opens to reply when Symmetra abruptly stops, her attention solely focused on one of the many candles lining the hallway. Every inch the Castle Jack has seen is made from a dense black stone. It appears to be polished basalt, cut out from the mountain itself. The first few hallways had windows, but they were rare. Not a single window is in this section. His gaze turns to see what has captured Symmetra’s attention away from his glorious self. What’s more important than keeping him entertained while being safely escorted to the exit? One of the black candles is tilted slightly, wax dripping onto the floor apparently is important. Eyebrows furrowed into a strong disapproving v shape, Symmetra quickly rights the candle to a perfect ninety degree angle. Then she starts to lecture it in a language Jack can’t immediately place. It sounds like one of the human tongues used far to the North. His own eyebrows furrow in confusion, why would she be lecturing an inanimate object? Surely she’s smart enough to not talk to things that can’t process her words, right? Faint tingles of magic brush down his spine as he stares really hard at the candle. There’s something off about that candle.

 

That isn’t just a candle. It’s an earthen vessel for a spirit! A low whistle of surprise escapes his lips as Symmetra still lecturing the spirit. Annoyance grows as his guide continues to ignore him. She’s not even looked his way for the past ten minutes, too busy yelling at spirit! Why isn’t she turning her focus on the more important person? His gaze studies the candle, noting that it is a beeswax candle. Jack never really got into the whole necromancy magic. He knows enough mechanics to understand that’s some powerful necromancy to bind a spirit to a candle, and have it stay there! His red gaze flicks over to the next candle curious if it’s just that one candle, or if other candles have a spirit bound to them. His lips start to open in awe, as that candle also has a spirit bound it! With a quick spin on his heel, he looks at the candle behind him. There are candles spaced exactly four feet apart on both sides of the hallway. Sure enough, that candle directly behind him also has a spirit. Cautiously he expands his spell for sensing eyes on him to include spirits bound in vessels. Data slams into him like a punch to gut. Panic the knowledge he can’t escape the Pumpkin King’s ever vigilante spirits hits him. There are spirits in every single candle, and as well as other objects! Quickly he shuts down the spell to avoid the overwhelming feeling of being watched.      

 

“Symmetra!” Jack snaps, putting no small amount of vampiric magic into his voice. He’s an elder vampire and she will listen to him! “You will escort to the exit right now.” Jack feels no qualms about using his magic to make her listen to him.

 

“Ah...excuse me...I had forgotten…” Symmetra stammers, spinning around to face him. Vampires don’t blush easily due how to slow moving and sluggish their blood flows. This young vampire is turning a bright shade of red. “Pardon my…”

 

“I want to leave now. Do your job and stop lecturing the spirit in that particular candle!” Jack snaps his patience for her youthful mistakes evaporated in the startling knowledge he just gathered. It’s rare at his age for Jack to become startled, and he doesn’t like the feeling. Her lips snap shut, and the blush deepens.

 

“It’s important that the Castle is kept neat and orderly! That spirit can’t be allowed to make a mess like that! It was important I inform it of this fact...and…you just live in the forest like a common brute. What important tasks could you possibly need to return into? Surely you can wait while I attend this important task!” Symmetra is recovering, and attempting to save face by arguing with him!

 

Something deep within him snaps and his eyes narrow into thin red slits. He wants to go, and she is actually trying to argue with him instead of doing her job! Rage boils in his blood, actually causing his slow beating heart to pump quickly. One fang slides out, and he hisses a challenge at the young vampire. Malic rolls off him in thick heavy waves. Symmetra steps backwards until she’s pinned against the wall. It would be a grievous faux paux on his part if he injuries a slave of the Pumpkin King. Still she’s wasted his valuable time and insulted him! He risks his reputation among all inhumans if he lets this young vampire get away with such disrespect. Her haunty and assuming attitude he’ll let slide, but not her thoughtless actions! All his time wasted over a spirit spilling a little wax on the floor! His hands slam against the wall on both sides of her head. She flinches, eyes widening in fear.

 

“Enjoy the after life and make art. You can do it now, there’s no reason to be afraid of judgement. You’ve already passed through the Veil.” Jack’s voice is soft like velvet, calling out sweetly to every spirit within hearing range. Magic rolls off his tongue and weaves the spell. Although Jack is not a siren, he’s learned that anyone with enough magic can enchant their words to function like a siren’s song; given copious amounts of magic and focus. His spell is targeted towards the spirits in the candles closest to him. Due to his not having blood to power it, his altered siren call can only reach about seven candles. However he figures that they call talk to each other. He only needs to reach one candle for this work. His revenge will just go by much faster by reaching more than one. He leans away from Symmetra, waiting for his handiwork to take effect. She inhales and exhales rapidly, back still rigid like a broadsword.

 

“Tell all your friends to make art.”  His lips curve into a cruel smile at Symmetra’s confused look. Her eyes widen in understanding as the closest candles tilt slightly off their holder by roughly thirty degrees, dripping wax onto the polished ground with ernst. The wax falls into interesting shapes, forming into what the spirits would consider art. They grow dim and small, before bursting into a brighter flames to burn more wax, as they tell all their other buddies about this fun new activity to do! “You should hurry and get me to the exit before I find some other way to annoy you for wasting my valuable time, Miss Vaswani.”  Jack isn’t exactly snarling, but his lips are curved upwards, now exposing both fangs.

 

“Right this way.” Symmetra snaps, voice and eyes colder than the the heart of winter. 

 

Jack doesn’t feel the slightest bit guilty. If anything, her rage only makes him feel better. He admires the decorations while she escorts him through the maze of hallways. Without windows to help give a sense of direction, it would be really easy to get lost inside. All the Pumpkin King seems obsessed with the theme of ‘Death’. All the decorations Jack spots with a quick glance are based on bones, death, or fire. Also, all the like statues he noticed in the city are without heads. Curiosity piques in Jack, just how old is the Pumpkin King? His Castle and Town are all done in the same theme. It takes a lot of time to carve an entire Castle out of stone, and this mountain is still an active volcanoes in the Spire Mountain Range. Not to mention the amount of time it takes to build a town, and have it thrive. Something lightly pokes at his memory, he knows he’s forgetting something important! Jack can’t pin down exactly is so familiar, but he’ll figure it out eventually. Symmetra can’t pass him off into the care of McCree fast enough.

 

“Good to see you again, McCree.” Jack gives the centaur a real smile in greeting, carefully keeping both feeding fangs inside his mouth.

 

“Jack, I reckon it’s a mighty big pleasure to see you again. What’d you do to Symmetra? She left like a bat outta hell!” McCree’s eyes look over Jack briefly, before tracking the retreating vampire.

 

“She neglected to escort me out in a timely fashion, so I caused a mess.” Jack decides to give a very short version of the story. McCree will likely get the full version later. Gossip travels fast in Kingdoms.

 

“That wasn’t very wise. Symmetra’s...different, and nothing gets her madder ‘n wet cat then a mess made on purpose. Good thing the boss has yer back, ‘cause Symmetra is not a good enemy to make. Let’s get going. I need to have you escorted safely out before sunrise.” McCree makes another ‘follow me’ motion with a hand, before trotting off down a street.

 

They go down a different street that Jack was lead in on. This one is smaller, and goes past fewer large buildings. There’s a smaller black building. Jack is curious what it’s function is for, since the lack of decorations is clearly an important marker of some sort. Dominant against the skyline, even in this more subdued section of town is a large building dominated by ornate gargoyles. Again, Jack wonders what its function could be. His lack of knowledge is grating on his nerves. He’ll need to talk to someone for answers! Growing larger with every passing building is the city’s tall black outer walls. There’s exactly two large entry gates, and he isn’t being lead towards one of them. Of course there are smaller, more discreet exits he just doesn’t know where they are. One eyebrow rises as it occurs to Jack that he’s being lead out of Nuevo Muerte via a faster route. The first way was meant to take him past impressive structures, this way is the faster route.  _ The Pumpkin King really wanted to impress me! But, why? What does he gain by showing off Nuevo Muerte like this?  _ More questions to answer for another day. Now, however, his body is already feeling the slight tug of sleep. Sunrise is in just a few hours, and his body is already starting to shut down in preparation. As an elder vampire, he can fight his body's natural reaction to sunrise, but it’s never without unpleasant consequences. He holds back a sigh of relief at the sight of a small gate. It’s open already the crown tops of Overwatch forest visible on the horizon. He can easily make it back in time without any stress! 

 

“Before you go Jack, can I ask you a question?” McCree looks at him with a nervous glance, all four hooves dancing a bit. 

 

Whatever his question is, it’s not one McCree thinks Jack will answer. His red eyes pin McCree into stillness. All four of his hooves stop moving, and he grabs his hat, rolling it between his fingers. Jack wonders what the question will be, and debates answering it. Silent goes on between them, and Jack nods his head slightly. They’ve arrived at the gate, and McCree looks at the open gate briefly.

 

“Will you tell me more bad puns next time you visit? I collect bad puns. I tell them to the demon I’m courting. He finds human puns amusing.” McCree blushes hotly, and glances at the ground.

 

“That’s it? You just want me to tell you bad puns? Ahaha...by the way you’re acting I thought you wanted to ask me something personal!” Jack doubles over laughing, one hand slapping his thigh. McCree nearly drops his hat, backing up several feet by Jack’s outburst. Better reassure McCree he’ll answer the question! “Of course I can tell you bad puns when I come back next!”

 

“Well, I would like to ask lots questions, but…” McCree slams his hat back on his head, and gives Jack a rueful smile. “It’d be rude of me to grill you about all being a solo this long. And the boss is really big on public relations, his image, all that boring political stuff. As a member of his court, I’m happy to be his slave. For his sake, I’ll keep my questions to myself. I don’t like it, but the boss swears it’s important. Upsetting an important guest would not make the boss happy.” 

  
“I see. Perhaps sometime I will answer a few of your questions. I do have twelve more visits to make after all. Farewell McCree!” Jack nods his head, before his body dissolves into a fine silver mist. As it solidifies back, Jack is in his bat form. Silver wings shake a bit, before he launches into the air heading home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have Jack facing the consequences of his actions to Symmetra. Plus, we get to see more how the Pumpkin King interacts with his mortal subjects. The finer points of being a King vs a ruler are addressed, and Jack finds out someone he thought dead isn't. The problem with being long lived is you have far too much time to enemies that want you so very dead.
> 
> I also have a Tumblr! It's pretty uneventful, but you're welcome to take a peek at it.  
> [My Tumblr](http://darthumbreon.tumblr.com/)


	5. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack remembers important parts of his past, while learning a lot more about Kings. Things aren't going as planned, will he survive his punishment for upsetting Symmetra?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the long await chapter five. It was going to be longer, but I realized that I needed to plan out the next scene a bit better. Sadly you, dear readers, don't get to see the introduction of the Blood Pox as I had first planned. No, for the impact I want to happen, I need to really plan out the next scene. So you get to enjoy up to that point.

Jack Morrison wakes up early. There’s something wrong, he can feel it deep in his bones. Like an ache, a sensation of dread rests heavy in his gut. Blue eyes open slowly, surveying the small coffin he uses as a bed. Goosebumps line his arms, and a chill runs down his spine.  _ Odd, I didn’t know I could still get goosebumps as a vampire!  _ His body feels like lead, slow and heavy, unable to really handle the sunlight his internal clock screams is still visible. 

 

Athena is asleep for the winter, or he would ask her for the current news. Surely she would know what’s wrong. Unluckily for him, Athena and all the forest dryads are sound asleep. To wake one would likely mean her death. His desire for news is not worth the price. Despite their occasionally bothersome quirks, Jack is rather fond all the dryads. Athena he considers a dear friend. 

There’s nothing that can kill him easily, so he’s still safe for the moment. Nothing that can kill him can get past the wards he has on Athena. Those aren’t powered by blood, but his own vampiric magic. 

 

Eyes slide shut, and he wonders why he would feel such dread. Is it because he’s due to visit the Pumpkin King tonight? Now that’s a possibility, but he doesn't think so. Gradually his body fights off the lethargy caused by sunlight. First he flexes his toes, then works through each muscle: tensing and relaxing each one. Not even this calming routine completely shakes off the underlying feeling of unease. When did he last feel like this? He hasn’t been plagued by this bone deep fear for nearly eight hundred years. He made sure he’d taken care of that particular pestilence! So it can’t be because of  _ them _ . That particular cult he nipped in the bud by dismantling their leader.

 

Eventually he feels the freedom that true twilight offers him. Eyes snap back open. Now it’s safe to leave. Hands check the coffin for traps, and finding none, Jack frowns. Today is not going to end well, he can just tell. Jack recalls the last time he felt this afraid without a visible cause attacking him. Careful not to get killed in his home, he leaves his coffin. 

 

It’d been nearly eight hundred years ago. After an outbreak of the Blood Pox. Something he’d rather not remember! Despite his desires otherwise, his mind supplies the memory. Everything is on fire. Tornadoes of flame and smoke twist up into the sky behind him. The Citadel is burning, and the screams of the damned are a symphony of agony. Powerful magic has sealed all the city gates shut. Jack knew the stakes if anyone gets out. He tied the locking spells to the all the death. There is nothing that can open the gates. No one is escaping alive. Everyone in the Citadel must die, otherwise the Blood Pox will spread. 

 

An incredibly insidious curse, the Blood Pox acts like a disease, not magic. Humans catch diseases all the time. Unlike flashy curses, the Blood Pox is modeled after one of the many plagues. Pale hands formed fists, his mind lost to times past. Humans are used to this, nasty plagues that kill in large numbers every few centuries are well documented. Humanity even plans around this fact. There’s nothing new about dying to a plague. Hell, humans get worried if an illness doesn’t happen! What new horror will happen because something hasn’t that slain their kind in the past few years?! Jack punches his dresser, fist punching a hole in the thick wood. Blood slowly oozes from his fists, and he picks out the splinters now stuck in his flesh. 

 

The creator meticulously modeled Blood Pox akin to the Bubonic Plague. Only it’s  _ not  _ a microscopic organism, easily treatable by medicine or magic. It’s Blood Magic, using the tactic of ‘spray and pray’ in curse form. A single fang slips out, and Jack nibbles on his lower lips. Unbidden, his brain recalls everything about that incident eight hundred years ago. He’d arrived at the Citadel Del Noire. Things had not been going well for him as a solo inhuman. Desperate to learn some new magic to defend himself, Jack had signed on as an apprentice to a Blood Magic Master. Lyris had been his name, and he’d been a Omnic, a highly evolved magical Golem. Lyris taught Jack a lot about Blood Magic. He’d also taught him about betrayal, death, responsibility, and guilt. All of things Jack thought himself above as an inhuman. How wrong he’d been. One of the hardest lessons he’d learned! Fangs dig into his lips drawing blood as the memories still keep him in the past.

 

One of the nastiest blood based curses ever created, the Blood Pox is still talked about to this very day, centuries after the first outbreak. Not that it’s mentioned as a Blood Magic, no, to the public it’s viewed as a mortal illness. All those who know the truth are dead, save himself. Jack had to study curses under Master Lyris. Hundreds of hours spent, back bent over books and bloody work stations. What curses did, how they acted, what the anti-curse was. Blood Magic is mostly curses, and Jack wanted to be a Master. Pride kept him at the task well past the point he should have seen the warning signs and bolted. No, he’d been a young fool and kept at it. 

 

By all means Jack knew of, and he spent hours studying magical curses, the Blood Pox is unique among them all. It’s not curable by either medicine or magic. If all people infected burn to ashes, then the curse is stopped. Extreme heat negates the magic for jumping to a new host. Without a new host, the curse dies. It needs blood to keep going. After a few hours without any fuel, the curse fades. Not a true stop, just a way to slow it down. That’s why Jack condomed thousands of people in a fiery death. So there would no more humans for the Blood Pox to infect. Funny that the cost of saving all humanity weighs so heavily on him after all these centuries. 

 

Almost all curses have an anti-curse, or a cure. Balance is a must in magic. Without an anti-curse or cure, the creator takes on a heavy burden in payment.  _ Everything has a price. _ A toll must be always be paid. The Gods decreed that the is cost higher the more others suffer. An incurable curse means a fate so terrible that the creator wishes they were dead. A deterrent put in by the Gods to keep balance. If someone is going to ruin a life with a curse, they better be prepared to pay for it. That’s why the Blood Pox is beyond insane, there’s nothing to stop it. Lyris hadn’t shown Jack what the cost he paid for such a curse; Jack killed his Master before getting a reply. He’s almost picked out all the splinters, but his mind still digs at the memories. Something similar about that time is happening now. Fear he thought long buried determined to find the connection.

 

Bit by bit, Jack dissects what he knows. Only fire can stop the Blood Pox from spreading. The sole purpose of the thing is to kill off humanity.  _ Why did Master Lyris want humanity dead? _ He killed Lyris before finding out. A mistake he hasn't’ repeated. Mind skipping from the facts, he ponders other aspects of what happened. His hand is free of splinters, and already healed. If Jack’s Master hadn’t been the one to create it, he’d not had enough warning to prevent the entire genocide of humanity. Without humans, so many inhumans would starve to death, himself included! Jack checks the time, he needs to leave soon. Still, his brain chases this thought refusing to settle firmly in the present. After learning the truth, an eavesdropped secret, Jack had fled to the nearest exit. Like it was yesterday, he recalls every detail. 

 

Even far outside the Citadel Del Noire’s outermost walls, the heat from the fires is blisters his skin. Fangs bare at the sight, guilt heavy in his gut.  _ I didn’t want this! I just wanted to learn Blood Magic for safety!  _ Genocide of the entire human race had not been what he signed up for! Shame floods him, and he turns his back on the scene. He’s stopped the Blood Pox from spreading, his Master disposed of, there’s nothing more he can do. He doesn’t look back as he runs away.

 

This is what he feels to this day, guilt and regret. A fear he only felt at the time is now back, and he can’t ignore what it could possibly mean. Only how could the fear Lyris installed him still exist? He killed his Master! Without that filth alive, the cult of the Iris that followed him should be dead by the flames that consumed the entire Citadel Del Noire.

  
  


Fear is rarity for him, and he never ignores the feeling. Twice since that moment has he felt this fear, but never at such levels. As powerful as he is now, only something that can kill him actually invokes such emotion. His instincts have been honed sharp over the many centuries, they’re one of his most important weapons. Teeth bared, Jack paces, ready for an attack. Nothing leaps out to greet him. That’s not reassuring, he was hoping whatever wants him dead would just jump him. Why couldn’t it be a simple, straightforward assassination attempt? Shoulders slumping, Jack glares at the empty room. Now he has to actively search for whatever is giving him this bad vibe.

 

Logically, the number one cause would be the Pumpkin King. Whoever, or whatever, is under that Pumpkin mask is dangerous. Even after he caused the Pumpkin Head to explode, there was nothing under it. Hell, Jack had collected some of the remains for testing. Nothing but an ordinary jack o’ lantern used in place of a head. A true headless being is rare, and Jack can recall the different types of inhuman like that easily. Whatever that King is certainly is a mystery. Hell, he isn’t certain how old the Pumpkin King is, but the guy’s been around for almost as long as he has! 

 

All inhumans grow more powerful as they age, and the Pumpkin King has thousands of slaves under him. Jack isn’t certain he could win a one on one fight against the Pumpkin King. There are certain procedures Jack follows in order to dodge trouble. One of the biggest is to not pick fights with magical beings or humans he can’t beat in an unfair fight. If he can’t even beat them while cheating, it’s not worth his time to engage. Only fights he’s assured victory are ones worth fighting. Perhaps he’d broken that important lesson by annoying Symmetra, and thus incurring the rage of her Master. 

 

Jack knows he’ll get in some sort of trouble for his stunt with Symmetra. However, he didn’t actually hurt anyone. Whatever punishment is levied against him won’t warrant death. So, that isn’t the source of his trepidation.  _ I have a bad feeling about today.  _ There is an agreement for his safety. If the Pumpkin King breaks his Word on a vow of that level, it would be catastrophic. Out of theories, Jack decides on his wardrobe choice for the day. As his eyes scan over his meager choices, his lips turn downwards. 

 

This is an unexpected problem. Never really bothering to keep an extensive set of clothing, he finds his lack of options frustrating. Why would it bother him if he wore the same outfit? It’s not like the Pumpkin King cares what he wears. Still…, it  _ does _ bother him. Does he even the funds to buy new clothing? How much do tailored suits cost? Damn it, he’s not liking how his night turning out at all. If he’s getting such a strong feeling of dread, he should go into the evening like he’s going into battle. That means his red leather outfit. Which he wore last time.  _ Damn it! Why is my appearance bothering me? It’s not like me to give a fuck!  _ Images spring to mind like weeds of how immaculate the Pumpkin King dressed. Perhaps it’s how shabby he looks next to his host. Hands curl into fists, fingernails scratching his palm, as he glares at his only decent outfit. 

 

That’s something to fix between this visit and the next one. Goosebumps doing down his spine, Jack snarls. Fangs gleam dully in the dim starlight. He’s due to meet McCree soon! Roughly shoving on his enchanted red leather outfit, Jack summons his mirror spell. Fingers snap loudly, the mirror appearing with a puff of sparkly smoke. After spending more time he likes, Jack straightens his outfit into an acceptable state. Finally ready for his monthly meal at the Pumpkin King’s expense, Jack transforms into a bat.

 

Large silver wings open with audible snap, and he takes flight. As the forest drops into a sea of dark green below him, Jack flies towards Nuevo Muerte. Large against the star studded sky, lights from the Castle’s come into view. Like a beacon, he follows the site. That underlying feeling of dread continues to stay with him. Does that mean the source is in Nuevo Muerte? Now that’s a possibility! That damned city has a lot of visitors. Someone dangers to him might be paying the Pumpkin King a visit. Already having a decent theory for the persistent feelings of unease, Jack relaxes. Uncertainty is more of a fear then the actual danger itself! As more features of the Castle and Nuevo Muerte come into view, Jack spots McCree.

 

Jesse McCree is waiting for him at the arranged meeting point. In an effort to impress McCree, Jack drops the transformation mid flight, landing neatly on his feet in vampire form. Toothy grin in place as greeting, Jack nods his head at the centaur. Jesse takes off his hat, and nods in greetings. His eyes are slightly more open, and he grins wider at the display. It’s a nice feeling to impress someone, even if said someone one is a centaur! 

 

“Good to see ya again, Jack. Glad to see you came back.” Jesse slams his hat back on his head. Tail swooshes out and lightly slaps against Jack in greeting.

 

“Pleasure to see you again as well McCree.” Jack lessens his toothy grin to a more polite, fangless smirk. “Why wouldn’t I come back?”

 

“Well, Symmetra raised a mighty big ruckus to the Boss after you left. She’s not too keen on messes you know? She’s fine with displays of power, but… that whole teaching the ghosts to make messes really upset her. So I’ve got orders to take you straight to the Boss before you can eat. We were wondering if you’d come back after you pissed off Symmetra. Not that the Boss will hurt you! But, something has to be done.” McCree can’t look Jack in the eyes, and his gaze is riveted on his front hooves. 

 

“I’ll face my punishment as needed. Lead the way McCree.” Jack wonders what in the world his punishment could be. Nothing painful, that would break the Pumpkin King’s Word. The two of them walk side by side in silence. In the distance, the tall building with all the gargoyles looms large. Something about it sets Jack off. Last time he spotted it, he was indifferent. Now when he looks at it, that feeling of doom returns in force. Whatever is in there is up to no good! Shoulders shrug off tension as he finally clears the long shadow it casts over the city.

 

As the impressive front gates to the Castle come into view, so does the Pumpkin King. Again the inhuman is immaculately dressed. Rich black leathers, velvets, and gold trim cover every inch of the King. Not an inch of bare skin is exposed.  _ Interesting! I didn’t realize before he doesn’t show off any flesh. I wonder why?  _ Although the pumpkin serving as a head has no eyes, Jack can feel the scrutiny. Even though his outfit is nice, it’s the same as last time. He’s been judged on his attire and found lacking. Like a stone setting in his gut, Jack finds himself unhappy about this assessment. That, for some reason, he  _ should _ be dressed in equally nice outfits is important. Mentally shoving the priority to get new outfits near of the top of his to do list, Jack gives the Pumpkin King a respectful smile.

 

“We need to talk. I’ll give you the benefit of doing so in private. Kindly follow me.” Without further preamble, the Pumpkin King starts walking down a hallway. 

 

A different one from before. There are more windows lining this one. All along the way, the spirits residing in the candles flare brightly as he passes, before dimming back down. Are they… saying hello? That’s new. More things to ponder later. Gradually the hallway narrows, and the windows disappear altogether. Then there are no more doorways, or side hallways. At the end of the long passage is a wide set of double doors. Layers of magic stick to them. Jack wouldn’t touch those uninvited for anything. 

 

Curled up at the base of the doors is a dog. Or something that looks like dog, because human canines aren’t on fire. This dog is. It’s not large, roughly the size of a pitbull. It’s black in color with lots of reddish orange patches. The spots are appealing in shape, looking a lot like lotus petals. Smoke curls out of it’s nostrils, and it drools molten material. That too, Jack wouldn’t go near unless he was certain he didn’t have to fight it. In all his centuries, he’s only come close to purebreed hellhounds a couple of times. Each time a nasty battle. Hopefully this time, he won’t need to fight. 

 

“Death Blossom, this is Jack. Jack this is Death Blossom. Since you’re with me, she’ll play nice.” The Pumpkin King gets down a single knee, holding out a hand. His voice is tender and soft as he calls out his dog’s name. Floppy ears picking up, she looks up red eyes full of adoration. Furry body stretches, then is standing, her tail wagging. Soon she’s airborne with a leap, both front paws slamming onto the chest of the Pumpkin King. Large frame actually rocking backwards from the force of the jump, the Pumpkin King just sighs.

 

“No.” Voice dismayed, the Pumpkin King shifts his body so the hellhound falls off, where she circles around for better access. Death Blossoms jumps up on the Pumpkin King a few more times. Each time the Pumpkin King’s response is to turn his body so she falls off harmlessly. Such a tender teaching technique is a surprise, and Jack adjusts his opinion of the Pumpkin King. 

 

“She’s still a puppy, and in training. Forgive her poor manners. I’m working on them still.” His voice shows the faintest hints of worry. As if the Pumpkin King doesn’t want Jack to judge his Hellhound. 

 

“I can see that. It’s amusing to watch.” Jack misses his own dog, from a time when being human was his life. 

 

Soon there’s treats in that open palm. Death Blossom ignores the treats, instead happy to lick her owner’s pumpkin face now that she can reach it. Magic sparks to keep the hellhounds molten drool from setting the pumpkin on fire. Magic flares to life putting out the fire repairing the damage. Kisses delivered, she eats the offered treats. Jack can’t help by smile at the cute exchange. He didn’t know Kings were kind in small ways.

 

“She’s fine. We all need to learn at some point.” Jack’s voice is calm, red eyes viewing the eager pup softly.

 

“Thank you. I hope you continue to forgive her bad manners in the future. Now, this way.” Fingers snap twice, and the doors open without needing to pushed open. 

 

Jack walks through the doors without fear. Right behind him is Death Blossom, black tongue dangling from her mouth. Somehow he can’t find himself afraid of a hellhound with such a large, goofy grin on her face. Gaze shifting from the dog to the Pumpkin King’s room, Jack is once again impressed. Inside are numerous magical artifacts. Household geometry is in effect, every single flat surface has clutter. It’s oddly domestic in a way he can’t explain. Eyebrows rising towards his hairline, he admires the entire room. There’s doors against two walls, but they’re closed. In the center of the room is a massive desk facing two chairs for company. Beside the desk is dog bed sporting numerous holes, a couple of burnt areas, and the skeletal remains of dead chew toys. 

 

Death Blossom walks past Jack to plop down with a dramatic sigh. Back legs straighten out at appears to be an impossible angle before she starts chewing on a large bone. Jack takes the chair on the left, while the Pumpkin King spares a moment to pet his hellhound before sitting down. Mentally Jack counts down from a hundred to keep from nervous fidgeting. At exactly the count of thirty-three the Pumpkin King speaks, breaking the heavy silence.

 

“Jack Morrison, you did a transgression against one of my Slaves. Satya brought the complaint to me. I have since reviewed the incident and found myself in a bind. Satya did not perform her assigned duty to promptly escort you to the exit. She should not have stopped to admonish the Ghost inside the candle. Her task was to get you to the exit.” The Pumpkin King taps a finger against his desk. There’s a pause as he bows his head, deep in thought. After a moment of deliberation, he continues voice grave. “Your actions to bring her task are understandable. I can not find fault in your reaction. Your methods being both creative and harmless weigh heavily in your favor. I am glad you did not harm her. In fact, your inspiring the Castle’s ghosts to create art raised their happiness by unexpected degree. Their productivity levels have been at all time high.” 

 

“Wait, you check to see if the ghosts are happy? Why would you care?” Jack is astonished, this isn’t what he was expecting!

 

“Of course I check. The more involved Ghosts are with reality, the easier they find it to interact with real world objects. By having them express themselves in an easy to measure method, they are overjoyed. They feel more alive, Jack. I care because Ghosts are sentient, and are all former Slaves who volunteered to continue serving me in the afterlife. They deserve a happiness after death to best of my ability to grant.” There’s a soft laugh from the Pumpkin King, and he leans back in his chair. The glow from his Pumpkin increases, and Jack finds the feeling of being studied increase. 

 

“My problem is Satya is upset. Due to her being Autistic, she views the world differently. I can’t dismiss her pain. Disorder is literally painful for her, and isn’t to be ignored. She doesn’t see melted candle wax as art. To her it’s just one big mess that causes unbalance. Her distress is valid, and something I  _ must _ address. A solution has since been found for the Ghosts allowing to make art without creating future distress to Satya.”

 

Jack stays silent, thinking about all of this. All his knowledge of Kings is that they are cold, cruel uncaring masters. The needs and wants of their Slaves don’t weigh on them. This isn’t the case at all here! Everything he knows about Kings and how they treat Slaves is being destroyed. It’s not a pleasant feeling to be so wrong.

 

“What hasn’t been found is a consequence you must face for upsetting one of my Slaves. If I don’t punish you, Satya won’t be able to find peace with the whole incident. You haven’t done anything technically wrong, however, I must punish you to make things right.  It’s rare that I face such a unique problem.” The Pumpkin King goes silent again, leaving Jack uncomfortable with his new knowledge.

 

“I wasn’t aware Kings cared about their Slaves.” Jack breaks the silence, trying to find some semblance of normalcy among the chaos of his changing worldviews.

 

“Do you know the difference between a King and ruler?” The Pumpkin King’s head glows even brighter. 

 

Jack shakes his head in reply.  _ I ran so hard from Kings I never bothered to learn how or why they operate.  _ He hates not knowing, and his gaze drops to Death Blossom. A much easier face to stare at it. Death Blossom looks back, without any judgement in her gaze for his ignorance. Blessed be dogs across all species, they’re unconditional balls of love. 

 

“Both Kings and rulers gather Slaves. A King is an inhuman who gives their word to respect their Slave’s wishes in an exchange of power. Bonds are forged, and the Slaves magic is willingly given to the King. There is a contract made up between King and Slave clearly outlining personal boundaries. I give my Word to release them from my service if they want to go at any point.” Each sentence the Pumpkin King's eyes glow brighter, his voice rising volume. 

 

“Only inhumans can be Kings, because we are bond by our word. The Laws that govern us force this contract to be honored. By giving my word to respect their choice, I can’t keep anyone against their will without facing Consequences. A ruler, on the other hand, can be human or inhuman. They use trickery to enslave anyone they can capture. There is no respected contract. Consent isn’t considered. Rulers take away free will for power. Kings provide protection and services in exchange for power. I am a King not a ruler!” That sentence is shouted at full volume, and both of his fists slam into the desk with a BAM! 

 

“Ah… I had no idea. I thought Kings were made by someone  riding their dick so deeply that the one that will takes it out would have to be crowned King. ” Jack didn’t realize that he’d been afraid of rulers, not Kings. Perhaps forming a contract with a King would be a path worth considering. Memories of Gabriel spring to mind. Just like the Pumpkin King, Gabriel had been so passionate about an exchange, not enslaving others blindly. Sex is needed for some bonds, but perhaps he over estimated some things. Before his brain can follow this line of thought of further, there is a polite knock on the doors. 

 

“Yo, boss. There’s been a sharp decline with Twilight. You wished to informed when she reached this point. You better hurry if you want to make it time.” A young woman dressed to impress in shades of purple and black gives the message with a bored look on her face. 

 

Something about her is off, instincts honed over the centuries screaming ‘danger!’ Every little detail about her immaculate, and she screams power without actually dangerous. Jack decides to avoid her at all costs. He recognizes her type, Trouble. Trouble with a capital T. Death Blossom looks up, then runs over. Hand previously empty suddenly has a treat. Not harmed or phased by jaws that drip fire, the young woman fearlessly lets the hellhound eat off her hand. Gently petting those floppy ears, Death Blossom’s tail is wagging with loud thumps on the floor. Nothing magical happens to make the treats appear from thin air, the area devoid of any new flavors of magic for him to taste. Sleight of hand then, similar to what he does to impress people.  _ I wonder what kind of inhuman she is?  _

 

“Thank you Sombra. Dismissed.” The Pumpkin King waves a hand, voice suddenly sounding resigned.

 

Before that leather clad hand is done moving Sombra’s vanished. That does leave a faint taste of magic. Jack flicks out his tongue slightly to get an idea of her magic’s flavor. It leaves lingering tastes of cayenne, paprika, and cumin. Even though Jack no longer eats human foods, his brain still assigns magic to spices he consumed while human. Death Blossoms let’s out a gusty sigh before wandering back to her dog bed. 

 

“Your punishment has been decided. Jack Morrison, you are to come with me while I visit dying children in the Nuevo Muerte hospital. It’ll be good for you see how a  _ proper _ King interacts with his subjects.” The Pumpkin King’s tone is final, and Jack feels something akin to horror fill him. 

 

“Is there any other punishment I can do? I hate hospitals and I loathe children.” Jack’s voice doesn’t waver, his eyes don’t falter from glaring his host. Somehow a lack of a face doesn’t stop the Pumpkin King from appearing rather smug.  _ Asshole.  _

 

“No.” That said, the Pumpkin King snaps his fingers.

 

Off to his right, Jack feels rather then sees the portal forming. Like a pressure in growing in his ears, sections of reality are warping. Magic seeps into his very pores, the taste of pumpkin pie so strong Jack would think he’d just eaten pie after a holiday. Ears popping, there’s a sudden bright flash of light.  _ He’s powerful and skilled to pull of that stunt!  _ Mentally reshuffling some more knowledge on Kings, Jack wonders why human children are worth opening a portal over. The amount of magic it costs to do such a thing is massive. 

 

Something about that glowing portal only causes the pit of dread in Jack to grow heavier. Whatever he’s afraid of is at the other end. He can’t escape the room, he can’t run back to Athena. As if sensing his fear, the Pumpkin King tilts his head, the glow growing dim before flaring bright.

 

“Don’t be afraid Jack. It’ll be okay, I promise. We’ll do this together.” 

 

“Okay.” Jack can’t fully express his fears before he’s ushered out of his chair. He can’t explain why he’s so afraid without knowing the cause. Oddly comforted by the words, Jack nods his head in acknowledgement. Rather than let the Pumpkin King know he’s scared, he squares his shoulders. He walks over the portal, hands stiff by his side. Eyes narrow at the innocent looking portal. At the other end is a human hospital. Nothing scary about either. Soon they’re facing the glowing blue portal together. Just to his side is the Pumpkin King. His hand twitches slightly, as if wanting to grab something. Instead the gloved first clenches tightly. They walk side by side through the portal. Jack can’t help but remember walking into battle with Gabriel ages ago. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is where I introduce you the Blood Pox. Some of you may recognize it from a different fic of mine. It needs a proper introduction, but I thought I would update sooner rather then later. :3
> 
>  
> 
> I also have a Tumblr! It's pretty uneventful, but you're welcome to take a peek at it.  
> [My Tumblr](http://darthumbreon.tumblr.com/)


	6. Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack hates hospitals. He hates the Blood Pox. And he hates asking for help. He's forced to deal with all three in a short period.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an update!

Jack steps through the portal, side by side, with the Pumpkin King. He glares at their destination. There are humans and inhumans dressed in the ageless wear of hospital scrubs. All around him in a wide hallway decorated in black and red is a thick rush of activity. People bump into him as they ran past. Something… painfully familiar is in the air, on the surfaces, and lingers over everything. Goosebumps run down his arms and spine. His lips twist and his tongue presses against his fangs. Sour scents of rotting flesh, bad blood, curses, and body fluids foul up the air with a horrific stench. Before his mind can pinpoint the source a young male, Jack guesses him to be a species of fae, holding a clipboard rushes up the Pumpkin King.

 

“This way my King. She doesn’t have long, until dawn at the latest.” The fae says as he holds his clipboard against his chest. “Follow me, we’ve moved her to the children’s ICU.”

 

“Jack, follow me.” The Pumpkin orders without looking at him. He follows the young fae and the sea of staff and clients part for him.

 

Jack sticks close to the Pumpkin King as his mind races. Dozens of thoughts compete for his attention. None of them win over the fear that bubbles deep in his chest. Something is wrong. A bad thing is in this place. Hospitals never attract the right attention, and Jack knows this evil. His brain scrambles to place it. Right as he thinks he knows, the memory of what is wrong just within his reach.... _THUD!_

 

“Oooph!” Jack grunts and glares at the unmoving figure in front of him. _Stupid Pumpkin King!_ He almost remembered something important! “Why’d you stop?”

 

“Why weren’t you paying attention, Jack? We’ve arrived in the waiting room. Twilight doesn’t know you. I want her last hours to be peaceful. You’re to wait here until I come back,” The Pumpkin King’s mild slight against him doesn’t go unnoticed. Jack bares his fangs at the King and people around him gasp.

 

“This visit… won’t take me much time,” The Pumpkin King replies the glow in his pumpkin head growing dim. It soon flares back it the normal level of glow. “I know you don’t want to be here, and you won’t need to be here for very long at all.” The Pumpkin King’s head swivels back to look at him before looking away. The immaculate figure walks away from Jack, his back stiff and his fists tight balls at his sides. Right behind him is the young fae with a clipboard who is whispering in low tones about Twilight’s vital signs.

 

Jack sighs and looks around the room. There are no open chairs to sit on. All the people, plus a several inhumans of the humanoid varieties, either stare at him or glance away. Except one. A tiny girl wearing a plain purple dress three sizes too large, her head topped with untamed wispy blonde hair is in a corner staring at him. Her body is in a tight ball that is rocking side to side and he hears the faint sounds of sobbing. Tears run down her face as she looks at him almost seeing through him to his core. Unlike the others, she’s alone except for a worn, tattered toy raven. Velvet feathers are worn down to the threadbare material, with a single real raven tail feather glued to the toys’ butt. It oozes magic and Jack wonders how she got her hands on such a thing. She keeps staring at him as her body shakes from her sobbing. One of her tiny hands reaches out to him with an intense look in her tear-filled eyes. He freezes when he sees her hand and his mind starts slipping somewhere far away. Jack finds himself yanked hard into a time he hasn’t thought about in ages.

 

_“Jackie! Jackie! Look!” Anna May yells as she tugs at his hand, while her other hand points off in the distance. Her dress is a donated one, three sizes too large. Like her brother, she has blond hair that is need of brushing. Jack glances down at his younger sister before looking at what she’s pointing out. He, Gabi, and Anna May are walking through Haven looking for a place to eat. They’ve been on the run for a long time, the war against inhumans pushing them far away from home. A thin trail of smoke is in the distance. He gulps down a lump of fear. Fire. There shouldn’t be fire there unless the inhumans have reached the Watchpoint. Haven won’t be safe for humans much longer. Where else can they run? There are no other safe human cities. How can he keep Anna May and Gabi safe?_

 

_“We see it Anna May. We’ll go a different way. Jackie and I have a plan, don’t we?” Gabriel reassures with a soft voice. One of his arms lightly drapes over Jack’s shoulder and squeezes gently._

 

_“What’s the plan Uncle Gabi?” Anna May asks her eyes wide with hope._

 

_“Jackie and I are going to talk to our friend Moira after dinner. There’s something she can do to help us improve our chances. While we do that, you’re going to wait at the tent for us.” Gabi replies with a sideways glance at Jack._

 

Jack hits the current reality with a crash. Stars dance lightly in the corner of his vision. Pain throbs in his temples. He hasn’t thought of the night he and Gabriel decided to become inhumans in centuries. And for good reason! Moira promised them both power and immorality. A means to protect their loved ones. When he came too, he was a vampire. His sister, Anna May, was missing. Gabi helped him search for weeks. Anna May’s dead body was found months later, drained of blood and rotted by curses. It was Gabi who helped him bury his last living relative. Why would he remember Anna May now? A tiny hand grabs him and pulls on it. A tug like his sister used to give him when she wanted something. He glances down at the tiny wisp of a human girl. He bares his fangs at her. Why is she bothering me? Can’t she go away? I have more important things to think about!

 

“Help my sister.” She insists and pulls on his hand harder. Jack wants to yank it free. He also doesn’t want to get punished for hurting another of the Pumpkin King’s subjects. Stupid kid, he won’t risk getting trouble to make her let go. _Fuck!_

 

“Fuck off kid.” Jack snarls and he pulls his hand up. She clings to it and is now dangling several feet off the ground. He pulls his hand higher and she still refuses to let go of him! _Fucking hell kid! Let go of me!_ Soon they are eye to eye. Her eyes are blue, like Anna May’s. He gulps down a lump of painful memories. _Stupid human! I won’t be tricked into having pity for a human! I won’t let that weakness in my heart again!_

 

“Help my sister or we’re all doomed.” She insists louder and everyone around them looks away.

 

“Look, kid, I’m no hero. I can’t heal. If the healers here failed that’s life. Humans die all the time. You’re not doomed because your sister is dying.” Jack snarls louder and shakes his hand, lightly. The kid yelps and falls to the ground. She lands on her ass with another yelp. Eyes full of tears glare at him. Her lower lips trembles and more tears fall. Something, where his heart had been, feels a tiny tug, softly pulling on long-dead heartstrings. _No! No! No! This can’t be happening!_

 

“Blood pox.” She whispers and one of her hands raises up to him.

 

_Lyris stands over him. Both of his hands are soaking with blood, Jack’s blood. His glass eyes glitter and dance. Jack screams in pain, his body writhing. Blood forms into a foamy mixture on his lips. His fangs dig into his mouth. Something burns, a feeling of molten fire in his veins eats away him. It hurts! Moira promised him a life free from extreme pain! She never mentioned he could be hurt like this! His master smiles and hands a jar full of a glowing purple substance to a man behind him. Jack gazes at the runes that contain the curse within a jar. That same curse that runs wild inside of him. Not wanting to forget, he brands those runes into his memory with magic and pain. The Blood Pox glows bright enough to cast shadows._

 

_“Here’s your war.” Lyris laughs. Jack can’t see who is taking the jar. He hurts too badly to stop Lyris from handing over the neatly bottled curse. More than he hates Lyris Jack hates his own stupidity for helping create the Blood Pox eating away at his body._

 

_“What about that fool?” The inhuman asks as he retreats further into the shadows. Jack sobs, his body eats away at his flesh to survive the curse going through him. Unlike humans, the Blood Pox reacts differently to inhumans. It has no effect on Omnics, like Lyris. Jack is not blessed with fevers, or boils, he is given the pain of his flesh being eaten alive. As his inhuman healing repairs the damage, his body is constantly being ripped apart anew. Eventually, his magic will run out, and he won’t heal. Then all that will become of him is a pile of mush, bones, and active Blood Pox. His arms wrap around his sides. He shakes and wriggles as his mind knows the agonizing pain and wants nothing more than to escape the agony. Death would free him from the pain, but he would doom everyone else! He wants to scream questions at the omnic standing over him. Why Master? Why? Hadn’t he done everything asked of him? Wasn’t he a good student, like he promised to be? No words escape his mouth all that comes out is whimpering._

 

_“Jack will have succumbed to the Blood Pox by morning. The rest of Citadel de Noire will have died to my glorious plague by the week’s end.” Lyris explains with a large shrug of his shoulders. Master Lyris and the man leave the room._

 

_“I’ll stop you…” Jack whispers as a foamy froth fill his mouth. He spits out foam and blood. His fingers glow and he starts to cast magic. Those runes on the jar, they can contain the Blood Pox. His fingernails scratch each rune into his flesh. He pays for each rune’s magic with his own blood and a vow to end the Blood Pox. Spite and blood magic power through him, sealing away the curse deep within in his body. Each rune on his flesh heals away, leaving no visible trace. They exist inside him, permanent marks on his magical signature. Deep within him the Blood Pox slumbers. Slowly the pain eases up. His eyes glow in the darkness. “I swear it!”_

 

Jack gasps and he crashes back into reality. He drops to his knees once again at eye level with the wisp of a girl. She clings to her toy and stares at him. Her lips tremble and tears fall down her face. Mage, that human girl is a mage! He glares at her. His vision goes dim around the edges and his brain hurts. Whoever that human girl is, she is forcing him to remember things from long ago. _How? How is she overriding my defenses?_ Jack glares at her and he realizes the truth. She’s afraid. Fear gives her power a big enough boost to override his own. If her sister does have the Blood Pox… He made a vow. Even without the laws that force inhumans to honor their word, he would keep this one without any higher power forcing him too. Jack could have sworn he killed Lyris, and with him, all knowledge of how to make the Blood Pox. Looks like he is wrong. Time to fix that.

 

“Where is she?” Jack demands as he pushes off the ground. Back on his feet, he glares at the girl. She doesn’t flinch under his glare but rather glares back without a saying a word. A tiny hand reaches out for him to take. Jack takes it and gives her a fangless smile. He gets a small grin in return. She wipes the sleeve of her dress across her face to wipe away tears and snot. Her sleeves are a caked mess of snot and tears. Jack tries not to let her clothes touch him.

 

“This way.” She says tugging slightly on his hand.

 

Jack follows her down the maze of hallways. People part of him. At the end of a long hallway is a door. He pushes it open. Inside is a single bed with a limp, pale girl. She’s wasted away, sweat covers her body, and large pus-filled boils cover her body. By her bed is the Pumpkin King and… Mercy? _What is Angela doing here?_ He shakes his head. Of course, the greatest witch and single most powerful healer he’s ever met is here. The young fae with the clipboard looks up at him and the girl. He snarls at them both.

 

“Get out of here!” He yells and waves the clipboard at them.

 

“Who is the girl?” The Pumpkin King inquires, one hand grabbing the flailing clipboard.

 

“Ugh… she’s Twilight younger sister Dawn, my King.” The fae’s voice drops to a whisper by the last word.

 

“Why isn’t she allowed in here?” The Pumpkin King’s voice is as soft as his grip on the clipboard is hard. It shatters under his hand, splinters flying all over. They deflect around the magical shields of everyone present. Jack extends his shield to the young girl. She looks at him, then at her sister. Once the splinters are done flying across the room, she runs over to the bed with her sister. That ugly toy raven is set down on the bed, near the head of the dying girl.

 

“She kept upsetting the staff with cries of the world is doomed if we didn’t save her sister. She was distracting the staff…so we kicked her out so we could work.” The fae quivers and his body bends lower at the bright light coming from the head of his King.

 

“Kid’s right though. We are all doomed the moment her sister dies. Nice to know we’re going to die because you didn’t listen.” Jack replies helpfully as he shows his fangs to the fae. The young fae looks at him, at his King, then back at Jack and gulps.

 

“Get out! The girl and Jack can stay, but you’re banished from this room.” The Pumpkin King roars his command.

 

“Yes, my King!” The fae mutters as he races out of the room and slams the door behind him.

 

“Jack it’s lovely to see you… but why are we doomed exactly?” Angela asks as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him.

 

Jack feels a headache come on. He places fingers on each temple and rubs slow circles. He looks at the sick kid, the sickly purple glow of the Blood Pox visible to his senses. It isn’t the same one he has, but it’s close enough to be from the same source.

 

“Kid has the Blood Pox. The moment she dies the curse becomes active and yeah… we’re all dead when that happens.” Jack explains as a headache grows worse. Stars dance in his vision and he wishes he were somewhere else. Someplace not so full of stupid anti-fire charms. His last trick to save the world won’t work here. It’s not possible to burn Nuevo Muerte to the ground killing everyone contaminated. _Fuck!_

 

“Jack the Blood Pox hasn’t been seen for centuries and it’s not a curse.” Angela counters but her tone isn’t harsh. Her blue eyes are full of worry. “It’s got to be something else.”

 

“The Blood Pox was last confirmed in Citadel De Noire exactly eight hundred years, forty-four weeks and six days ago!” Jack snaps as he thinks about how long it’s been. He points at the girl, dying on the bed. Rage boils in in his veins, he can’t think of how to stop it this time. He will fail and becoming undone is the least of his worries. “It’s a curse with no cure that is designed to mimic the human bubonic plague. It's Blood Magic that latches onto a being, inhuman or human. There it eats away at the body. With inhumans, literally, it eats away their flesh until their own magic runs out and they are unable to sustain their natural healing.” Jack’s voice drops and his arms wrap around his body. He remembers how much it hurt. His eyes gaze full of pity at the girl on the bed, he knows her pain. Dawn, the girl so much like his sister stands close by. “Humans get fevers, weakness, and painful puss filled boils that cover their body. The only things immune are Omnics. I guess Lyris didn’t want to die by his own creation.”

 

“You know who created the Blood Pox. And you are certain Twilight has it?” The Pumpkin King doesn’t ask his tone is demanding and harsh. His arms crisscross his chest and that pumpkin head stares at Jack. At Jack’s nod, the light inside turns low and dim.

 

At the stare from both Angela and the Pumpkin King, Jack squirms. Both of his feet fidget in place and he looks away from both of them. His hands drop from his sides and form into tight balls.

 

“I was young and stupid. I became a student to a powerful Omnic Blood Master residing in Citadel De Noire. I volunteered my blood like a fool. He used my blood as the basis for the Blood Pox.” Jack whispers the last bit. His second greatest mistake. Moira didn’t create inhumans, she transforms them into something more. Her magic resides in their bodies for eternity, lingering forever. All inhumans she creates are mutated into something that makes them greater than the rest. Gabriel, if he is still alive, has the same mutant blood Jack does.

 

“SHIT! FUCKING HELL JACK! YOU MORON!” Angela and the Pumpkin King yell at the same time. Something about the Pumpkin King’s voice is familiar, Jack knows it from somewhere.

 

“Uhhhhh…” Twilight whimpers and her eyes flutter open then close shut again.

 

“Stop yelling!” The young girl shouts and she rests a finger against her lips. She glares at Mercy, then the Pumpkin King, and finally her gaze stops on Jack. He can’t meet her gaze and looks down at his feet. “Save my sister Jack. I know you can. I’ve Seen it.”

 

“I don’t know if I can kid… the last time I stopped the Blood Pox I just burnt something to the ground. I can’t do that here.” Jack replies and shrugs. He studies the floor near his feet, it is a very nice carpet. Pity there’s over a dozen anti-fire charms in the room. _Stupid fireproof city!_ Jack has seen hundreds of the best anti-fire charms on everything.

 

“Something? Citadel De Noire wasn’t just something! That fire is considered one of the greatest tragedies in recorded history!” Angela lectures as her hands rest on her hips. “You haven’t changed at all, have you? Brute force, fire, and massive property destruction can't solve all your problems, Jack!”

 

“Can we not argue and work on the solution? Angela, I know you don’t like it, but please go into Valkyrie mode. Give that girl your best healing magic to buy us time.” The Pumpkin King interrupts, his voice deep and booming. “Jack, how did you not die to the Blood Pox?”

 

“As I was dying from the Blood Pox, I watched Lyris hand over a jar full of it to someone. Mentioned a war. I used magic to brand the sealing runes into my memory. After they left me to die, I wrote the same runes on my flesh and used my own blood to fuel them.” Jack explains and his eyes close. He opens up his defenses and his own magic becomes visible to those who can use magic. His magical core appears a flame of blue, gold, crimson, and flecks of dark purple woven through out his entire core. Written over the purple are dozens of rust red runes that flicker with magic.

 

After he knows Angela and the Pumpkin King have seen what price he paid to survive, he closes up his core. All of his defenses slam back up. “When I die, the Blood Pox will consume my body. It kills everyone it touches. It was created without a cure. Like human diseases, it jumps from being to being by direct contact but is dormant. The Blood Pox is a curse that uses the magic released upon death to activate all of its dormant curses. All of the dormant strains become active, fueled by death magic. Then they attack the person’s body and spread from to person. And when that person dies, the process repeats. Only fire hot enough to leave nothing but ashes will stop it from spreading. When that girl dies, or when I die, we’re all doomed.”

 

Angela looks at him and her hands cover her mouth. Her eyes grow wide. She lets out a tiny gasp. The Pumpkin King lets out another roar. The curtains sway and the windows rattle. The girl claps her hands over her ears and cowers low.

 

“We’re not doomed. There has to be something,” The Pumpkin King snarls and his hands form into balls. Even though a carved pumpkin doesn’t have facial expressions, Jack knows he is being glared at. He squirms some more, his feet digging into the carpet. “Something besides burning my city to the ground.”

 

Silence falls. Jack can’t think. His mind is looping 'you failed, failed, failed'. Nothing helpful comes to mind. Panic grips his body like claws. Pain laces through him, a warning. If he doesn’t act, he’ll become undone. Inhumans are bound to their word, the more serious the vow, the more severe the consequences. With a vow like he made to get power to save his life, if he doesn’t follow through on it, some higher force will make him become undone. All inhumans who break important vows face that fate, forced upon them by God. Their bodies dissolve into ash. Angela transforms, her wings spreading out wide behind her. Her staff comes to life and a stream of healing magic, pure life force, pours in the girl. Dawn grabs the toy raven and walks over to Jack. He glances down at her. Both of her hands held up the toy raven and she moves its beak like she would a puppet.

 

“Please save Twilight. Dawn and her sister want to go home, where they belong. Caw caw!” Dawn mimics a crow’s caw perfectly and her eyes look past the toy to stare at him wide and full of hope so deep it cuts his soul to the very core.

 

Again, where his heart had been tugs, harder times time. He was a hero once. Along side Gabriel, he had fought for peace. Equality for humans, inhumans, and omnics. Hope for a better future, no more war, no more unnecessary fighting. No one has believed in him since Gabriel. An emotion Jack knows but hasn’t felt since he left Gabriel lodges in his throat. Home… family… belonging… _Belonging! That’s it!_ He smiles at the girl, his fangs tucked inside his lips out of sight. She gets his respect.

 

“I know what to do. Go be with your sister. She'll be alright and you can go home together.” Jack says softly he almost reaches out to ruffle her hair. Those untamed wispy blonde curls remind him of Anna May. He clenches his hand against his side, refusing to give in to the need to touch and comfort a human. He's not that weak! Like he told her earlier, he isn’t a hero. Jack Morrison is an asshole, and proud of it! He glances at the Pumpkin King and another emotion lumps in his throat. Time to do something he hates. But he made a vow to stop the Blood Pox at all costs, and he will pay the cost of casting aside his pride. “I need your help.”

 

“I will give my help freely. You can ask for what you need without fear of becoming my Slave.” The Pumpkin King answers back and his head glows bright enough Jack covers his eyes with one hand. “What do you need?”

 

Jack's shoulders slump and he sighs. He can do this and stay free. What the Pumpkin King said about not making Slaves against their will holds true. It wasn't just empty words to inspire! Another thought surfaces but Jack shuts it down. Now is the time to save the world, not think about his past mistakes with Gabriel. His shoulders straighten and he looks at the Pumpkin King. Time to do something he never wanted to do, make a pact with a King for power. Although he isn't becoming a Slave, it reeks like the first step to becoming one. No matter, he will keep his vow to stop Lyris and the Blood Pox.

 

“I need power. Lots of it. I can cast a 'Come Home Spell' to call the active Blood Pox to my person. It’s made from my blood, with enough power I can summon it all to me. I’ll take all the active Blood Pox inside my magical core. Then, I’ll need help sealing it. Once I’m done casting the spell I’ll be dying from the Blood Pox. I'm not likely to seal it on my own a second time.” Jack speaks clearly and he holds up his wrist on his right arm to his mouth. A single fang slides out and he slices his wrist, causing blood to flow freely. His wrist is bare and exposed and his blood flows down his arm. Magic swirls around him, it tastes like cornbread and spiced apple cider on his tongue. His magic, not any blood magic he casts, tastes like his favorite foods from his human life. He had almost forgotten what his magic tastes like, it’s been so long he since used it instead of Blood Magic. Similar to blood magic, body fluids are exchanged as a means to share power from one inhuman to another. Sex magic works the same. There is power in sharing one's body with someone.

 

“Pity we don’t have time to enjoy this, I know of far better ways to share body fluids for a power exchange.” The Pumpkin King mutters and Jack stumbles a little in shock. Was that an offer to have sex? Before he can fall the Pumpkin King grabs his waist, one hand gloved hand taking his bloody wrist. His own wrist becomes bare, the immaculate clothing fading away by magic. Dark skin, familiar in a way his brain refuses to recognize, comes into contact with his. The Pumpkin King is warm to the touch. Someone he loves dearly was also warm to the touch. His brain freezes and time comes to a complete halt. Then there’s blood on that dark skin. No weapon Jack could see cut that flesh, it was bleeding. Their magic joins into one with ease. Jack's mind scrambles for answers. _How did the Pumpkin King cut his skin? What is happening? Why do I feel safe?_

 

Jack casts the spell, his brain numb by the sheer amount of power at his disposal. He calls out voice loud with power, his magic sending out a call of belonging. Like the songs of a siren, it can't be ignored, the need to Belong too strong within every object. Inside of him the Blood Pox flares to live and it hungers. It wants to join its kin, it wants to belong. Purple magic draws away from the girl. Each spiral of purple light that leaves Twilight’s body causes her breathing to steady and strengthen. Purple light streams in from under the door, through the window, off the bodies of Angela and the Pumpkin King. It grows in Jack and then it starts to attack his flesh in need. Magic, not his own, heals his flesh faster then it’s eaten.

 

Jack finds his mind falling into a blissfully numb state, similar to the time he broke over a dozen bones while human and got doped with morphine at the hospital. It’s hard to control the spell, and the purple light wants to roam away and take the purple inside of the vampire with it. Someone tries to take over the belonging spell. His brain, numb and sleepy, struggles for control. That’s his spell, he can control it! _Easy Jack, I’ve got this. You can sleep. Trust me._ Jack knew this voice, trusted it once. _Who are you?_ His mind struggles as his body slips into a deep slumber. _Safe? Home? Sleep?_ Jack’s mind asks, afraid. It’s been so long since he could sleep safely, not since he gave up his home, gave up Gabriel. _Yes Jack, home. You’re home, safe with me._ His magic hands over the spell to the voice without further question and he slumbers his mind at peace for the first time since he left Gabriel.

 

The Blood Pox rages as it tries to eat away Jack’s flesh but fails. A power stronger than any it’s ever seen heals the vampire’s flesh. Nothing the Blood Pox does hurts the vampire, despite it’s growing rage and need to kill, kill, kill. That purple glow streams into the hospital room, pouring into Jack’s body for hours. If it can’t kill humans, it will kill the vampire that holds its original self-captive. Then, after the last of active Blood Pox goes into Jack’s body, the Pumpkin King starts to work. Smoke curls off his body like tiny tentacles. It writes the sealing wounds on Jack’s magical core. While the Pumpkin King can’t undo the original runes constantly eating away at Jack’s magic for fuel, he will power the new set to ease up on the burden his wayward lover carries. _Stupid, stubborn fool._ Always trying to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders alone. _I won't let you carry this alone, I'll keep you safe._

 

“What am I to do with you, Jack?” Gabriel mutters softly, one hand tenderly touching the strong jawline. He had the perfect chance to make Jack his. Several perfect chances to act and seize Jack as his own. No, he wants Jack to join him of his own free will. Jack will become his Slave, his Consort, but only when he wants to be. Never will he take away the freedom Jack clings too so strongly. That is what rulers do, and Gabriel is a King.

 

“I suggest you keep him out of trouble. He likes sex, so I prescribe regular dickings up that flat ass of his to keep him too tired to get into serious trouble.” Angela replies with a laugh. “Doctors orders, Gabriel. Get him to fall in love you, and then fuck his brains out. That’ll keep you both out of trouble and from falling into the sleep that claims so many old inhumans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up everyone, don't be this person. Don't be the person who promises to buy something, that they have the money, then doesn't pay for what they buy after getting it. Don't be the person who goes the route of nonpayment. Don't be the person who refuses to send any form of communication explaining why they refuse to pay. That means people are stuck with issues of nonpayment need to write a demand letter with confirmation delivery. 
> 
> Don't be the person who ignores demand letters with confirmation delivery, we know it's arrived. Don't be the person who has to be taken to court for ignoring a demand letter deadlines and refusing to pay for something they agreed to buy in a timely manner. Because if you do, then it means people like me to need gather funds to take people who go the route of nonpayment and refusing to acknowledge demand letters to court. It means that people like me can't write and need to start sending inquires to lawyers to about small claims court and pressing charges. Don't go the route of nonpayment, because people like me exist. People like me hate being lied to and cheated. People like will take people who refuse to pay to court. 
> 
> It might take people like me several months to gather the funds, but I've got three years to gather funds, a lawyer, and do paperwork. Don't be that person, they're the worst and make it so I can't write and update as fast as I would like.
> 
> Don't ask me who it is. You don't need to know. I won't say who is it. If you hire employees, and see a person taken to court for nonpayment and charged with breaking the laws for nonpayment, then you might come to know this person. Whatever lawyer I hire needs to know. Any future employers that google people who get taken to court for nonpayment might know this person. 
> 
> But let it be known, I don't tolerate people lying to me and cheating me of money they promised me. It's written in text exchanges, that can be used as evidence in court. I take people like that court, even if it takes me time to gather the funds. Don't be that person. Be a nice person who pays promptly. That way writing can happen without time wasting with legal stuff. Thank you for not being that person.


End file.
